Crimson Angel
by RoksanaLyasin
Summary: Kali once vowed to take on the devil himself if she could turn back time, but as the demons gather and the supernatural stirs, who will rise in search of souls? Dean/OC. M for violence, lauguage and matures themes.
1. Halloween Cheer

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

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><p>CRIMSON ANGEL<p>

HALLOWEEN CHEER

_Miami, Florida._

He tapped the steering wheel, following the beat of the drums that blasted from the speakers as a smirk lit his face. He watched the bikini clad beach goers who went from sidewalk to sand and back, his eyes catching on a beauty in a little black number as she adjusted the tiny triangles that kept her decent. The sun was dipping below the horizon, plunging Miami into orange hues, but still the beach was full, oh so tantalizingly full. He knew that soon they would leave though, would pack up their beach towels, their sun kissed skin heading for the clubs and bars of Miami to enjoy the festivities of a Halloween celebration that would last the week.

'Dean?'

He startled, reaching to turn the music down a notch as his brother climbed into the passenger seat, bags of steaming food tucked in the cradle of his arm. He licked his lips, already tasting the cheesy goodness of the hamburger he knew was nestled in that bag, just waiting for him to take a bite. He reached for the package that Sam held, pulling it straight into his lap to dig inside, a grin stretching his lips as he reached the prize.

'Hungry?'

He glanced to his brother again, still feeling his way to his hamburger. 'Nah, I've been waiting here for half an hour. Of course I'm hungry, bitch.'

'Jerk,' Sam instantly replied, taking a bite of his sandwich. 'The lines weren't exactly short.'

Dean bit into his hamburger, nearly moaning at the cheesy goodness that soaked his tongue. He enjoyed it, every bite that all too quickly turned to crumbs which he brushed from his hands. He glanced to his brother, meaning to say thanks, but the look on Sam's face suggested he keep his mouth shut, lest he receive another lecture on his unhealthy eating habits. He exercised, worked out; what was wrong with enjoying a little junk food? Besides, they had a job to do tonight, and there was no way he was doing it on an empty stomach, not when the growls and grumbles that demand food might distract him.

He grabbed the empty food packages and paper bags, tossing them from the window, a grin on his lips as it bounced on the rim of the nearby bin before tumbling inside. He looked to his brother, but Sam rolled his eyes, pulling out his laptop. Dean shrugged, not bothered as he turned his music up again, blasting it in the car as he waited for his brother to finish any final research.

They already knew what was out there, had tracked the monster from South Bay to Miami Beach. It was a good hunting ground for the creature, but they still didn't know where it would go to hunt, what opportunities it would make the most of in the city. It was Halloween, and though it was the middle of the week, most places would be full of partiers just looking for an excuse to drink til they dropped.

'Here,' Sam said, pulling Dean's attention from a feast for his eyes yet again to point at the screen, 'there's a big Halloween party that will take over the entire night club. Looks like there'll be hundreds of people there.'

Dean reached for the key, the engine roaring to life before it settled into a delicious purr. 'Well Sammy, guess we're going clubbing,' he said, peeling away from the curb, a smirk on his lips as the bikini clad girls nearby turned to look, to appreciate the 1967 Impala that he loved so dearly. He revved, roaring up the street towards their motel, knowing they should start to gear up. By the time they got to the club, they would be covered in silver from head to toe, the blades concealed by their clothes.

This was his life, his brother's life too. They were raised on it, on hunting the things that go bump in the night and even in the day. It wasn't pretty, wasn't what they wanted, but knowing that they were saving people made it at least a little easier to live with the horrors they had seen.

Barely.

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><p>The minute hand was yet to strike midnight and the music was pounding, the bodies on the floor grinding against each other in the rhythm of hormones as the club hummed. The music was techno, a haunting scream or howl mixed with the beats, making what should have been eerie tragically clichéd. She wanted to roll her eyes at the costumes around her, at the ignorance of the people that dressed as creatures she had encountered, monsters that would tear them apart in seconds. How could she judge them though, when she envied them? She wished that she didn't know about monsters, that she had never come to have the knowledge that haunted her constantly.<p>

But there was no point wishing for things to be different, as she had learnt long ago, so she fluffed her hair gently, some of the lengthy curls that tumbled down her back falling over her shoulders before she made her way into the crowd. She was jostled, but using strength that no one would believe she possessed, she easily parted the gyrating bodies, catching the eyes of men that nearly dropped their jaws. She offered them a wicked smile, some a flick of her tongue over the specially fitted fangs, but nothing more. She was looking for someone – something – and wouldn't be distracted. Oh, she would flirt with some to build the illusion of a carefree party girl, but there was only one face she was truly looking for, a mask better than any others that danced around her in the strobe and laser lights.

The hunting ground was perfect, but the monster would be surprised. In a room full of hundreds of faux monsters, it would believe that it would not be seen, that its true face would be confused for brilliant make up rather than a nightmare. She knew what she was looking for though, and her disguise was just as good, even if it was simple. Beneath the heavy eye-liner and mascara, pale skin that was nearly blue in the light, eyes made white by contacts and hair curled rather than pulled in a tight braid, no one would recognise her.

The monster would not know what hit it.

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><p>Dean pulled the Impala close to the curb, climbing out to join the mass of party-goers on the street. He sneered, watching a werewolf walk past, pitiful growls and howls echoing through the corny mask. He joined his brother, straightening his jacket with disgust. 'I can't believe these people,' he mumbled, nearly ripping the plastic scythe from the hands of a passer-by, wanting to snap the bloody thing in half.<p>

'It's Halloween Dean, what were you expecting?'

'I don't know, some fear maybe?' he said as he stalked forward, Sam easily keeping pace with massive strides. 'Would it kill them to be scared of all the crap out there, just for one night?'

'They don't believe in what we've seen, Dean, and they'd lock us away if we tried to tell them about it.'

'Yeah, yet we're their best friends when a ghost comes knocking.'

Sam ignored him, but Dean was used to the silent treatment on occasion. He used the quiet to focus, to school his features as they walked past the line of vampires, zombies and other horror movie extras. His eyes caught on an angel and a devil clad in little but lingerie and wings or horns, a grin crossing his lips before an elbow to his side from Sam had him snapping – reluctantly – out of his ogling. He cleared his throat, stopping at the front of the line, ignoring the protests that came from the people who were so close to getting in.

'Back of the line, boys,' Frankenstein's monster said, his jaw set, the bolts stuck to his thick neck surprisingly realistic.

'We really need to get inside,' Sam said.

'Even if I let you cut this line, which isn't going to happen, you're not in costume.' He pointed a thick finger to a poster that advertised the party. Dean and Sam zoned in, frowning at the line that read: _costume mandatory_. They would not be deterred though, each reaching into their pockets, perfectly synchronised as they pulled leather wallets out.

Dean sighed. 'We didn't want to do this–'

'But you've left us with no choice,' Sam finished.

They flipped them open to reveal the gold of badges and the thick black text on ID cards, Frankenstein's monster's eyes widening at the sight. Still he remained in place, folding thick arms over his broad chest as he said, 'I'm sorry, but I still can't let you in. Flashing a badge doesn't mean you get to cut the line.'

Dean glared. 'There is a fugitive hiding in this establishment. If you do not let us in, you will destroy a seventeen month undercover operation, and he will get away. Now, unless you'd like us to talk to your boss about the drug lord who is running operations from this night club, a man who you allowed to enter, then let us pass.'

Frankenstein's monster gulped, looking like he was about to tug at one of the bolts in his neck, though he seemed to resist as he pulled the rope aside for them. They nodded, making their way inside though a corridor covered in cobwebs and Halloween garb to a door, where they again flashed their badges before tucking them into their jacket pockets. They glanced at each other, sharing a small smile before they broke into the throbbing music and blinding lights that cut through the darkness of the multi-level club.

It was almost midnight, and the alcohol had been flowing for some time. Dean wanted nothing more than to take a seat at the bar and down a beer – or four – but there was a job to do. He scanned the crowd, ignoring the looks that were thrown at him and his brother by the costumed partiers. He knew they looked out of place, but there was no way he was going to embarrass himself by putting on an outfit that was supposed to scare when he had lived the horrors these people laughed at.

That, and there was no way in hell he was ever going to wear make up, not for anybody or any reason.

They weren't sure what they were looking for. They'd only caught a glimpse of the wraith and the face it used to appear human. For all they knew, it had changed its "mask" since they saw it. However, each carried a mirror with which they could spot the hideous creature if it chose to use a human face rather than pretend to be a celebrant of Halloween.

He scanned the crowd, searching, hoping they would spot the wraith sooner rather than later as he was jostled by the surrounding dancers. Oh, he didn't mind having numerous girls bump or "bump" into him, but until he and Sam found the wraith, he wouldn't be pursing any of the lovely ladies, even if he wanted to get to know some of the hands that groped at him far better.

He frowned, shouldering past a group of zombies, his brow set in a hard line. He shoved a few more partiers aside, growling when the bodies refused to move from the places they had claimed on the floor. He was considering pulling a weapon when Sam reached past him, parting the crowd with a massive hand, a few curses thrown their way as they managed a few more feet towards the other side and the bar that Dean would not pass, on the job or not.

They had nearly made it out of the grinding bodies when Dean felt a hand grip his jacket, a little firmer than the others that had tugged in curiosity. He stopped, eyebrows arching as hands came to rest on his chest, the wicked red of fingernails flashing as a spot light passed over him. His eyes followed the length of pale arms, so slender and perfect they were like porcelain, to bare shoulders, covered only by curls that tumbled well past her waist. The shifting of her hands on his chest drew his eyes higher, unable to break his stare as he locked onto white eyes and the reddest, plumpest lips he had ever seen.

He resisted the urge to gulp as her tongue traced her top lip, pausing at a fang, his mind a jumbled mess in which there was only one clear thought.

_Sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph; that's one vampire I wouldn't mind getting to know better._

He opened his mouth, ready to say something that would draw her in to the web that was the charm of Dean Winchester, but before he could utter even a letter she smirked, walking past, a hand travelling over Sam's broad chest and eyes locking with his before she blended with the crowd.

Sam met Dean's gaze, their jaws loose before Dean finally managed, 'when we've killed that wraith…shot gun.'

Dean saw Sam ready a comeback, but he was already busy forcing his way through the last of the crowd, determined to find the wraith.

Now.

He set his sights on the bar, nearly stumbling as he finally pushed past the last couple of bodies that stood in his way. He swivelled, spotting Sam just behind him, having only slightly less trouble making it through the crowd. He scanned the dancers once more, desperate to see the "masked" wraith but not finding it. He was about to pull out the mirror when he spotted those gorgeous curls in the crowd, his eyes drawn to them though he knew he should look away. His stomach churned as he watched her getting close and personal with a monster of a man dressed as Beast from _X-Men_, a fitting costume considering his size. He grabbed her waist, arm snaking around her from behind, a sneer coming over Dean's lips, until her flirtatious dance turned subtly violent.

Her elbow shot back, Beast obviously losing his breath, giving her a chance to drag him from the dance floor. She winked at those who bothered to look at her, suggesting she was taking him somewhere private, but the reason wasn't what most would assume.

'Sammy,' Dean said, grabbing his brother and yelling over the thumping beats.

'What?' Sam asked, just as loud.

'I found the wraith.' Dean tugged Sam forward, parting the crowd easier in his hot pursuit. He took the same door she had dragged Beast through, into a corridor that led to the bathrooms, people against the wall on all sides as hands roamed. Dean ignored them, heading for the door down the opposite end that read:_ Employees Only._

'Who was it?'

'The girl,' Dean replied, 'the one I was too busy staring at to notice there was something strange about her.'

Sam reached for the handle, thinking it would be locked, but the door inched open. He looked to Dean who nodded, already reaching for silver blades as together they counted.

They broke through the door, blades at the ready, their eyes locking onto a mane of curls that flowed like a cape behind her as she leapt towards Beast. Dean's eyes widened as he took a closer look at Beast, the painted blue skin blistering and burning as she sliced the blade across his arms. Before the brothers could gather their jaws from the floor, she lunged, ducking under the arm that held the thin protrusion that the wraith used to feed and slam the blade to the hilt in the monster's chest. It let out an agonized cry, a hand reaching for the blade in vain before it collapsed.

Dean could do nothing but watch as she bent to withdraw the silver, the slit that ran the length of her dress showing her slender leg all the way to the top of her thigh. She wiped the blade on the shirt of the monster before she straightened, flicking those gorgeous curls over her head in a wave of starlight blonde that shone even in the little light of the back room.

She spotted them in the dim light, standing dumbstruck with blades drawn. She smirked, watching Dean watch her as she flicked her dress aside, revealing even more of her supple skin before she sheathed the blade on her inner thigh. 'You boys are here to clean up for me?' she asked, walking forward, her plat-formed stilettos clicking on the tiled floor. She stopped in front of Dean, those wicked red lips curling into a smile that had him nearly reaching for his collar, especially when she leant a little closer, barely coming to his height even in the heels.

His breath came sharp as she brushed her lips past his ear, saying 'that's so kind of you.'

She pulled away, flashing the same wicked smile at Sam as she walked past, both Winchesters staring like fools for a moment as she walked towards the door before, finally, Sam called, 'wait.'

She paused, looking over her shoulder, the starlight curls obscuring her face slightly. 'Yes?'

'You need to dispose of the body,' Sam said, Dean glancing to his younger brother, swearing for a moment that the man had nearly stumbled over the words.

'And why would I do that when two strong boys like yourselves have shown up just in time?' she asked, an innocence shining in her eyes that both Dean and Sam knew was faked. 'I don't want to risk getting blood on my dress. It is a one of a kind after all.'

Sam opened his mouth, obviously intending to grill her, but she disappeared though the door.

No way was he losing sight of her again. 'Sammy, clean up,' he called as he sprinted for the door.

'Hey, Dean!'

'I can't let her get away with this.'

On the dance floor again, he kept sight of those remarkable curls that shone white in the light of the club, ignoring the angry shouts of the grinding couples that he disrupted. He expected her to exit through the main entrance, but she veered off just before, taking a side exit that led them into an alleyway. He was only seconds behind, but already she was sliding into a 1970 Ford Torino Cobra, his jaw dropping once again as the gorgeously maintained classic roared to life, tearing down the alleyway as a streak of blue and white.

Dean took a breath, trying to get his bearings, a part of him thinking that he should go back inside. However, a stronger and far more dominant part of his brain was projecting only one word.

_Damn._

He felt a hand wrench his shoulder back, turning him towards a glaring Sam. 'Dean, we've got to get out of here.'

'What about–'

'Everyone will just assume that it was a drug deal gone wrong, especially after our little stunt to get in,' Sam said, shifting his jacket, obviously hiding something. 'Besides, I removed the spike it used to feed, then slit up the other wrist. Cops will think it's part of a gang killing. They'll be too busy trying to figure out which group did it to worry too much about the less…human like qualities of the victim.'

Dean frowned, glancing as his brother shifted his jacket again. 'Man, that's just gross.'

'Best thing I could think of on short notice after you ran off,' he said, turning down the alleyway, massive strides taking him in the complete opposite direction that Dean wanted to go. Oh, he wouldn't have a chance of catching that Cobra, but damn he wanted to try. He stared at the night for a moment, the taillights no where to be seen. To have never even learnt her name…

As a hunter, she would have given a cover, but to put a name to those porcelain features was all he wanted. For now, he'd just have to think of her as…as…the crimson angel, with lips as red as the drops that had rolled down that silver blade.

He frowned, turning reluctantly to follow his brother, knowing that those pale eyes and that starlight hair would haunt his most beautiful dreams.

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><p><strong>Welcome, to a new fan fiction<br>**

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of

**Crimson Angel  
><strong>

This fanfiction will be updated every Saturday for now, but will be updated Wednesdays as well in the near future.

I hope you'll look out for chapter two, aka _Fangs_, on the 9th of April.

~ Ryuk In Person ~


	2. Fangs

TWO

FANGS

They were still in Miami, watching and waiting for their next case. The sun had been shining, the weather marvellous as Halloween continued to last the week, with gorgeous women bouncing around in bikinis. But the Winchester's weren't enjoying the festivities. No, they were cooped up in a motel as they scoured newspapers and the internet for anything that looked suspicious, supernatural.

Still no leads had cropped up.

Dean was getting restless; his feet were folded, one over the other as he leant his head back against the headboard. He'd cleaned his gun thoroughly, so thoroughly that even the ivory seemed to have a metallic shine, and still little time had ticked past on the clock that matched the sickeningly green, retro wallpaper.

The most irritating thing, though he wouldn't admit it, was that she had not left his mind. He kept seeing flashes of her porcelain skin, of her starlight hair and wicked lips, lips he had not had a chance to taste, to enjoy, to…

He shook his head, flinging his legs over the side of the bed to stand. He placed his gun in the holster, shifting it on his waist band before he picked up his jacket. The brown leather was worn, but the comfort he felt as he pulled it over his arms was why he wore it. It wasn't meant to be fashionable; it was rough, as battle torn as he was.

He headed for the door, reaching for the handle. 'I'm heading out.'

Sam looked up, his furious typing and clicking ceasing as he said, 'what? But the–'

'Newspapers are empty and you're covering the internet, so I'm going out. Want me to bring you something back to eat?'

'No, we've had dinner, but–'

'Great.' He turned the knob hard, wrenching the door open and striding through it, his brother's voice drowned out by the slam of the cheap wood. He straightened his collar, smiling at his Impala as he went to the door, sliding into the seat. Instantly, he felt some of the strain of days of research leave his shoulders, his fingers reaching to hug the steering wheel for a moment before he started the engine. It roared, then settled to a purr as he backed it out of the parking spot in front of the room, his whole being already feeling better than it had cooped up in the crappy motel room.

He hit the road, knowing roughly where he was heading. He tried to justify his motivations, telling himself that it would be easier to pick up girls along Miami Beach, but he knew he was just hoping that in the throng of partiers that still clung to the Halloween spirit, he would see her, his crimson angel.

Dean nearly laughed, 'my crimson angel? _My_ crimson angel?' He rubbed a hand over his lightly stubbled jaw. 'Damn, I must be losing it.'

He pulled up, focusing on the costume clad girls that strutted their stuff along the sidewalks, heading for the nightclubs in killer heels and tiny skirts, giggling as they walked. The door creaked as he climbed out of the Impala, his eyes still following them, but even as his mind told him he should enjoy it, a part of him wasn't truly focused on the skin that the costumes so eagerly revealed. He was beginning to fear there was something desperately wrong with him, especially when he only felt a hint of a smile when a naughty nurse sent a wink his way.

He shook it off, adjusting his collar before he hit the pavement, wanting nothing more than to down a few beers. Yeah, Sam probably wouldn't want him to stay out long, but he could get away with an hour or so outside of the motel, some time all to himself. Or, maybe, he could take two. This was Miami, monsters' paradise when it came to feeding and killing. He'd no doubt run into something that needed killing, though a part of him hoped that the night would not come to that. All he wanted was a beer in his hand and a girl on his lap, preferably one that he could play panty snatcher with.

_Bullshit._

He sneered at the comment, uttered by the same part of his brain that kept insisting that he find _her._ Well, he certainly wouldn't be listening to it, he decided as he joined one of the shorter lines in front of a club, knowing that he would look a little out of place but not caring. It wasn't particularly late, the clock slowly ticking towards 11:30, but when he entered the crowd on the dance floor and at the bar was thick. Already some were legless, stumbling with their steps, leaning on unfortunate people who happened to be a convenient height. He ignored them, ducking past the more intoxicated to squeeze into an empty space at the bar to order a beer.

He felt a true smile spark on his lips as the beverage landed on the bar in front of him, the glass cool in his hand, his mouth and throat singing with joy as he took that first sip. With it downed, he asked for another and began to scan the club, noticing a girl who was delicately seated at a modern design stool, looking entirely like she wanted to be somewhere else. He grabbed his beer, strolling casually to her. He thought that she had rolled her eyes at him, but he leant against the bar, saying, 'dragged here against your will too?'

'I was, but you came here alone,' she said, only just audible over the thumping beats of the music.

'Actually, my friend abandoned me at the door,' he said, taking a sip of his beer, his tastebuds still singing, 'bloody prick knows I hate clubs.'

'I guess you need to choose your friends more wisely,' she said, making every effort to look anywhere but at him. He knew he'd need to turn up the charm, show her the cheeky boyish but sexy smile that he had mastered for those girls who were a little harder to get but a part of him just…

Couldn't be bothered.

He nearly choked on his beer at the realisation, and, for a moment, wondered if his whole equilibrium might just disappear as his heel slipped on the foot rest of the stool he was leaning against. She finally looked at him, arching an eyebrow as he threw a casual smile. 'Well, hope you're not stuck here forever,' he said, quickly walking away, glad to find he didn't lose his legs. He downed the rest of his beer, nearly slamming the glass onto the bar before he made a beeline for the exit. His thoughts were jumbled, confused, simply freaked out by the idea that he couldn't be bothered picking up a girl.

_Unless… _

He shook his head. He just couldn't be bothered picking up _that_ girl, with her snooty attitude and her I'm-too-good-for-you-so-back-off frown. He wanted someone who was fun, who would smile and laugh with him.

And again his mind called _bullshit._

He rubbed his hand over his face, ducking not into a night club where the music blared too loud to hear, but a more upscale bar that had surprisingly brushed its hands of the Halloween theme that still hung around the other places he had been to during the week. The music was softer, offering opportunity for conversation, and the group at the bar wasn't acting like a pack of wild dogs as he took a seat, ordering another beer.

He sat for a moment, staring at the bottles of spirits that lined the wall but not really seeing them as he slowly sipped at the glass in his hand. He turned on his chair, looking out at the far less scantily clad women that were perched in chairs or the bench seats of booths, some with men and others with a group of laughing friends. There were no lone women, not here. Oh, he could easily turn on the charm as he should have with the snooty girl at the club, weaselled his way into the group and then taken his pick once he had them all batting their eyelashes at him, but he remained at the bar sipping his beer. He knew it was strange, that there was something keeping him from his usual ways. His mind, deciding to be helpful – irritating – put it into words.

_I want _her_ name!_

He downed the last of his beer, slamming it on the bar before he rubbed a hand over his face. He dropped a note by the glass, making his way past the groups of girls that he should have been chatting up and heading for the door. There were murmurs as he passed, curses too as he shouldered through a group of men. The streets were crowded, many still in costume, ready for what would be the last night of Halloween festivities. He was sick of seeing werewolves, of seeing fangs and blood splattered over the naïve. What was worse, was each girl he saw sporting a wicked dress and a pair of pointy pearly white was not the one he wanted before him.

He cursed, ducking down an alleyway he knew would lead him to his Impala, his sanctuary. There were no "monsters" here to scratch and tear at his nerves, the narrow laneway bearing only back doors to restaurants, clubs and the like. There was little light but that of the moon, and he felt the strangest wave of comfort wash over him. Even if he didn't like it, even if he wished for another life in the light of day, he belonged in the night; he was a hunter, a fighter, and there was nothing in the world that could change that.

He turned at a whistle, the high pitch shattering his train of thought, halting him. He stared down the alleyway, the pale light offering little illumination to the figure that walked towards him. He saw only a silhouette, heard only the click of heels. He squashed the swell of hope in his battered heart, knowing he needed to see the face of the whistler rather than jump to conclusions, but as they passed a gap in the buildings, the light of the moon falling upon a pale head of hair, his heart willingly jumped.

'What's your name?' he asked, a smile quirking his lips at the idea of finally knowing.

'I never said,' she replied, and his smile dropped a notch. Was that how she had sounded, so cold, so rough?

He stepped forward, needing to see, hoping so desperately that it was her. 'Well, maybe if I tell you my name, you can–'

'Now, now, there's no need for that,' she said, stopping in a stream of moonlight.

His heart hit the floor. He saw white blonde hair, yes, but it was cropped short. She had pale skin, yes, but not porcelain perfection. Her face was beautiful, yes, but it did not hold that classic, soft, almost pixie-like appearance, and her dark eyes held no playfulness.

'Who are you?' he asked, any hint of a smile gone from his face, his brow set.

She smiled. 'That's not really something you need to know, Dean.'

His brow furrowed. 'How do you know my name?'

This smile revealed perfect teeth, a brilliant smile if not for the row of fangs that appeared. 'How could I not know Dean Winchester when I see him?'

'Great,' Dean growled, reaching into his jacket. He had little with him to fight a vampire, the blade he pulled only able to injure, not decapitate as he would need. He glanced around, searching for other options but seeing little but a two-by-four.

It was going to be a tough one, but at least she was alo–

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><p>The first thing he noticed was the throb at the back of his skull. His stomach churned at the white hot wall of agony that burned through his eyes as he reluctantly opened them, forcing the lids to separate, knowing that he needed to see for some reason.<p>

_Why do I need to see?_ Some part of him asked as the burning continued, the light that shone on him far too white to be natural. _Why does it hurt so much?_

Slowly – agonizingly slowly – pieces started to fall into place. He remembered the woman, the vampire that had approached him and spoken his name. He remembered scanning his surroundings, looking for something that he could use, something that might be more effective than the small blade he carried. He remembered…

The two-by-four.

He cursed, knowing exactly why it hurt so much. Someone had snuck up on him, picking up the wood when he'd turned to speak again, still weighing his options. Without reaching back – not that he could with tied hands – he could feel the lump that sang its song of agony on his head, merrily throbbing as his blood pumped.

'Such language,' a voice said, a tut-tutting note within the tone.

He looked to the voice, seeing the woman – vampire – from the alleyway. He pulled a smirk over his lips, though he did not truly feel like smiling. 'Considering you knocked me out cold, I don't think you can lecture me on my manners,' he said, sitting up, leaning against the wall behind him, leaving room for his hands as he worked at the ropes.

Her smile was cold, calculating. 'Well, we couldn't just let you brandish a knife, could we?' she asked. 'You might have hurt someone.'

'Kinda the point.'

She stepped forward, Dean silently willing her to come just that little bit closer, just that little bit into the range of his legs, but she stopped shy of his reach. 'So nasty. It's a good thing we caught you. The people you could have hurt…'

He laughed, going for nonchalance as he continued to work the ropes, feeling them slacken slightly. He had to keep talking, keep distracting her so that she wouldn't notice the movements of his arms, though he kept them minimal. He plastered that smirk on his face, one that he hoped would make her angry as he said, 'funny, 'cause I really wouldn't call you or any of your vampire buddies people.' He ignored the ice that layered her eyes, continuing, baiting, 'actually, I'd call you bloodsuckers, monsters, but you're pretty pissy ones at that, coming at me from behind. Hell, because you couldn't all face me as a real monster should, I might even accuse you of sparkling.'

She hissed, finally closing the distance. Dean swept his leg in a low arch, knocking her feet from beneath her, a crack sounding as her head hit the concrete floor. He tugged at the ropes, knowing he had little time, a true smile breaking over his lips as he pulled a wrist free. He pushed himself up, landing a kick in the still stunned vampire's face, blood spurting as he broke her nose. Even dazed, she lashed out, grasping his ankle to drag him down with her. He put his hand out, jarring his elbow but saving his head from the concrete. The joint throbbed and he tucked his arm against his chest as she moved to kneel over him. He drew his knees tight to his chest, kicking with all his might, the heavy soles of his boots landing hard in her chest to propel her into the opposite wall of the small, far too bright room.

His eyes darted as he looked for an exit, spotting a door at one end of the room and a hatch above the corner he stood in. He was in a basement, the concrete around him too smooth for him to gain any purchase in a climb, especially with an injured elbow. Maybe there was a drop down ladder or stair case, but unable to see a cord to grasp, he wasn't going to tempt fate.

_Door it is._

He scrambled to his feet, making a break for the door. He reached out, grasping the handle to find it locked. He glanced to the vampire, her skull still healing. He refused to waste the time he had, stepping back before slamming a heavy boot onto the handle, breaking it off, giving him a level surface. He kicked again, aiming for the lock, hoping to snap it. It didn't give, and he felt a growl rumble in his chest as he prepared another assault, stopped by the body that slammed into his side.

He tried to cry out as fresh pain shot through his skull, but his breath rushed from his lungs, the vampire's elbow seemingly embedded in his sternum. He reached up, his injuries protesting as he tried to fight her off, but she was stronger, her fingers wrapping tight around his neck. Unable to draw a much needed breath, he felt his face grow hot as his lungs ached and strained.

He battled the darkness that threatened to take his vision, but his skull throbbed, the increasing rate of his heart sending a warm rush of blood from the larger wound created by his argument with the concrete wall. He knew that to faint was to offer himself to her as a set of sharp fangs appeared, hiding the human teeth that had smiled at him before. If he was to die, he'd go down fighting. He wouldn't let her just take a bite and dig in, no sir, not with his blood.

He pushed his forearm into her neck, but sharp nails dug deep into his wrist, twisting his arm until his already injured elbow threatened to give in. He clenched his teeth against the pain, stretching his neck as far from her reach as he could with her body still pressed against the wall, but he felt the graze of fangs before the vampire latched onto his neck.

Unable to stop himself, he released a harsh cry as she drew on the bite, sucking, stealing his blood. He hated himself at that moment, hated that he had allowed himself to be lured and trapped, hated that he would die by the fangs of a vampire. He'd been too distracted, too desperate, and now it would be his downfall.

Another harsh sound escaped his lips as she withdrew the row of fangs, blood trailing down his neck to soak his shirt as she looked to the ceiling. He fought her in her distraction, but the head injuries were becoming too much for him, the darkness in his vision stronger than before. His injured elbow left him with the use of only one arm, and the attempts to push her back when she came in for another bite were weak.

Inside he cursed, before projecting to Sam, hoping that somehow his baby brother would hear his goodbye, all his focus on sending that one last message, focus that was shattered as a crash sounded near by.

At first he thought that the door had been broken down, but as the vampire pulled back he glanced to the heavy wood he had tried to kick his way through, seeing that it was still in place. He looked to the other side of the room, drawn to the solid thump of heavy soles landing on concrete, his eyes widening as they locked onto the crouched form that slowly rose to their full – but quite frankly unimpressive – height. Between his slowly fading vision and the blonde hair of the vampire that blocked his path, he saw little but the flash of silver and red, the vampire crying out a call of help before she launched at the new arrival.

Dean slumped against the cold wall at his back, watching as the sword rose, slashing but only slicing clothing and hair, the vampire barely dodging what would have been a fatal blow. Another crash sounded, and Dean drew his legs in as the door swung open, nearly coming off its hinges as a solid man – probably the bastard that hit him with the two-by-four – stormed into the room. He tried to stand, but his legs gave way at the wave of dizziness that hit him. He could only watch as the vampires circled, careful to stay out of reach of the impressive sword that the new girl held, her back to Dean, preventing him from seeing her face. He saw only a pale head of hair, a thick braid disappearing beneath the collar of a fitted leather jacket, only to emerge from beneath the bottom hem…

_Shit._

The vampires made their move, synchronized as they launched themselves at the girl. Dean was sure he was about to witness her death, his heart clenching, but faster than he could have ever imagined, she crouched; the sword that had been dipped in blood sailed in a circle above her.

The vampires fell, the Red Queen's frequent demand of "off with their heads" dancing in his mind as the two lifeless bodies crashed to the ground with heavy thuds. He watched as she crouched, wiping the blood from the lengthy blade before she reached behind, somehow managing to sheathe it in the scabbard that was strapped over her back. He held his breath as he turned, unable to believe the sight before his eyes as she looked to him, eyes such a pale blue they appeared white, a smirk on her lips that had his jumbled thoughts shuffling further.

'I guess it's a good thing I followed you, isn't it Winchester?' said his crimson angel.

* * *

><p><em>Next update: Saturday the 16th of April.<em>


	3. The Secret Lives of Hunters

THREE

THE SECRET LIVES OF HUNTERS

She wanted to look cool, calm and collected, but seeing him safe and sound – though bloodied and bruised – had her soaring. She had been about to approach him when the vampire had appeared, taking her spotlight. She had wanted to talk to him ever since Halloween night, ever since she ran out to leave the Winchester boys to clean up the mess. Then she'd spotted him leaving the bar with a frown set on his usually carefree features.

She'd acted on a whim, following him, but by the time she had caught up she'd had to duck into cover and watch that vampire bitch strut her gigantic behind up the street like she was the hottest piece of ass in the town, her ankles nearly twisting as she walked, attempting to put as much sway as possible in her child-bearing hips.

Okay, so maybe, just maybe, she was jealous of the vamp's figure, but no way would she ever admit it out loud.

She offered a softer smile, crouching beside him. She met his gaze, only able to lock onto the curious green for a moment before she glanced away, gently cupping his jaw with her hand to turn his head. He looked confused, but did not protest, something probing in his gaze when she captured it again.

'I think you've managed to avoid a concussion,' she said, standing to step to his side before he could speak. She tipped his head forward slightly. 'That wound, however, looks pretty nasty.'

'I've had worse.'

_Oh, his voice…_

She had revelled in the sound of it as he spoke to the vampire, the rough, gravelly edge to the deep tone a feast for her ears. Now, even with a harsh, unfamiliar rasp to it – likely caused by the pain of the wound that still bled on his neck – it sent a delicious chill down her spine.

One that she was still yet to understand.

She tipped his head back, careful that his already battered skull didn't hit the concrete again. 'So have I,' she said, holding the back of his neck, looking closer at the bite, 'I mean, she didn't even hit your jugular.'

'Good to know.' He offered a half-hearted smile, though there was still a surprising amount of warmth within the brief flash of perfect teeth. She found herself smiling back, hoping that it reassured him that he was in good hands. After all, he wouldn't be able to remember her, not with how different she had looked in the club in her best vampire garb, contacts and all. She knew she was a stranger to him, a dangerous one after her sword show.

She reached to her shirt front, tearing up the side before she took a strip of fabric from the bottom hem, folding it into a thick wad before she pressed it against his neck. He flinched, his teeth gritted as she held the fabric in place.

'Sorry I didn't get here earlier.'

'I'll be fine,' he said, but his words were clipped. He reached up, his hands covering hers. His green eyes captured her, her lips no longer forming words as he held her in his gaze for a moment, hand still over hers.

Finally, she pulled away, standing, trying to shake the warmth that spread from her hand to her arm and beyond, knowing it would do her no good in the end. 'Let me at least take you back to my car. I have the regular hunters' first aid kit,' she said, watching as he stood rather than helping, knowing that he would find even the offer of assistance irritating.

'Got whisky there?'

'Of course.'

He flinched as he reached back, gently touching the area around the wound. 'Great.'

She led the way, passing through another room and then pausing once they had made it up the stairs and into the building above. She went to a bag, crouching beside the opening that she had made her entrance through. She rummaged through it for a moment, the familiar sound of metal and wood meeting filling his ears before she finally pulled a bottle from it.

'What are you doing?' Dean asked.

'Burning the bodies,' she said, squirting the liquid through the opening, seemingly emptying the bottle before she finally stopped and reached into the back pocket of her jeans.

'But what about–'

'This building is condemned,' she said, standing as she slung the massive bag over her shoulder, the pack of matches still in hand, 'they're knocking it down next Tuesday, so why not save them the trouble and burn it. They'll just think a couple kids got a little crazy with matches or something.'

Dean watched her for a moment, watched the way she lit the match and dropped it down the opening, no emotions playing across her face as the light of the fire below brightened the room further, casting shadows. Even with the pain at the back of his skull, his vision was clearing, his thoughts less jumbled as he focused on her. She had found him, made one of the best entrances he had ever witnessed, and then saved his half unconscious ass, and he still only had one question that he wanted to ask her.

'Who are you?'

She looked up, expression blank for a moment, as if the fire had entranced her before that wicked smile took her lips. 'I'm a hunter.'

'Not what I mean.'

She hitched the bag higher on her shoulder, heading straight for him. Even in her heavy-soled boots, she came just past his shoulder. To think that this tiny little woman, so slender and fragile looking with her pixie-like features and porcelain skin had taken out two vampires with such ease…He had chills, and he wasn't sure if they were the good kind.

'I know,' she said, heading for a door that led them to an alleyway.

He followed, keeping up as best as he could with a headache bouncing around in his skull, feeling a frown set on his lips. 'You know my name, so why won't you tell me yours?' he asked, catching her, hand grasping her shoulder to pull her to halt.

She turned to him slowly, the look in her eyes somehow intimidating, though she had to crane her neck to meet his gaze. 'You're very lucky you're injured, Winchester, because I usually toss people on their ass for that.'

He dropped his hand, not needing another warning, but still he had to know. 'We're on the same side here. We're both hunters. How do I know who I can thank for saving my ass back there, when you won't even tell me your name?'

She relaxed her glare, offering a smile that was not wicked or intimidating, a regular smile that had Dean almost forgetting what he'd asked until she said, 'Kali.'

He couldn't help but smile back. 'You're not giving me an alias, are you?'

'No, my name really is Kali,' she said, continuing to walk, keeping in step with him now, 'Kali Saxton.'

'Dean,' he said, instantly cursing in his head, 'but you already know that.' He glanced to her. 'How do you know that?'

'You boys have made a pretty big footprint in this world as hunters,' she said, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a set of car keys, glancing to Dean, spotting his eyes and the gleam that crossed them as they paused beside her car, parked just outside of the halo of light from a near by street lamp.

He reached up, rubbing a hand over his jaw before he placed it gently on the perfectly polished blue that was nearly black in the night. 'I can't believe this is your car,' he said, knowing he sounded a little breathless, and not because of the sore throat that still plagued him. 'Do you know what–'

'1970 Ford Torino Cobra, sportsroof, laser stripe and the most beautiful sounding engine you will ever hear,' she said, smirking at him as she went to the back of the beauty, dropping her bag into the trunk before she leaned in, rummaging around for a moment.

Dean couldn't snap his jaw shut; even when he reached up, attempting to nudge it with his hand, it stayed slack, as if begging to drop to the ground. He had seen the appreciation in her eyes, seen a gleam of knowledge that he knew was not just a reflection of his thoughts.

She really was an angel.

She straightened, handing him a bottle of whisky that he quickly uncapped, a portion of it soon burning down his throat. No, it probably wouldn't make any of the stitching she would have to do on his head and neck any less painful, but it would relax him, and damn did he need that. He handed her the bottle, knowing it would be rude to drain any more of it, no matter how delicious the burn in his throat felt. She took a quick swig before placing the cap back on, the bottle disappearing into the trunk before she rummaged around again.

He found his eyes caught on her; where she had torn her top so that he could have something to press against his neck to slow the blood flow revealed the smooth expanse of her stomach, showing more of that porcelain skin that he couldn't seem to get enough of. When she straightened, even more was revealed, as well as a piercing he hadn't noticed before. As she stepped closer, he nearly chuckled to himself, the piercing making it appear as though a snake was sliding from her belly button.

'Up here,' she said, and he snapped his gaze high, locking on to blue eyes that rolled at him as she had him sit on the bonnet of her car. 'You're a typical man,' she said as she had him lean forward, taking another look at the wound on the back of his head before she reached into the bag she had pulled from the trunk. She pulled a sewing kit from it, carefully threading what appeared to be proper medical thread through a curved needle. 'I know you're used to being in dangerous situations, but you could have died tonight,' she continued, pushing him a little further forward to get a better view with the light of the near by street lamp, 'and yet, rather than stepping back a little to say, 'holy shit, that could have gone bad, maybe next time I'll…' you're just ogling me as if none of it happened.'

'I'm alive and I've got a whole new appreciation for _ow_!'

She sterilised the wound. 'Oh, sorry, what was that you were going to say that may have objectified women, or, more specifically, me?'

He swore under his breath, wanting to look up and arch an eyebrow at her, but knowing that wasn't possible as he saw her sterilising the needle out of the corner of his eye. 'Nothing,' he said before he cursed again, the needle making its presence known, the sensation of the thread as it slid through his skin familiar but no less uncomfortable.

She worked quickly, silent as she finished the last stitch on his scalp and moved to his throat. He watched her as best as he could through all of it, swearing for a moment that concern lay in her eyes, but…over him? She didn't know him, wouldn't care for him.

Discarding the needle in favour of a sterilising wipe and suture strips, she quickly taped the worst bite marks to hold the skin together before covering the bite with a pad and taping it in place. He reached up to scratch at the tape, but she caught his hand, forcing it to his side before she returned to packing up her bag of assorted medical gear. He frowned, trying again, her hand like lightening as she caught his wrist once more.

'Want some pain killers?' she asked, as if she hadn't just ninja stopped him a second ago.

'I have a better idea,' he said as she went to the trunk, placing the bag inside before she closed it and headed for the driver's side door. He leant on the top of the car, watching her, ignoring the throb of his skull and the itch of the tape on his neck. 'Will you have a drink with me?'

She paused, staring at him for a moment before she leant on the top of the car as well. 'Do you really think that's a good idea?'

'I think it's an excellent idea,' he said, knowing that he must have looked desperate but not caring; he had to get to know this girl, to unravel the mystery of his crimson angel, 'I didn't exactly get a chance to ask you after you left me with the body of a wraith.'

_Again with the my?_

He ignored his brain, needing her to say yes, praying that she would.

'Won't your brother be wondering where you are?' she asked, though inside her heart soared at the knowledge that he remembered her, that he recognised her even without the Halloween garb.

'Not for a while longer,' he said, hoping that the flash of reluctance in her eyes was just a figment of his imagination as she nibbled at her bottom lip, making the plump skin even more mouth watering as she met his gaze.

Slowly a smile lit her lips, and he felt a flash of victory ripple through him, a grin lighting his features as she said, 'alright, we'll get a drink. It is Miami, after all. There's bound to be a bar open somewhere.'

She slid into her car, Dean glancing to utter a silent thanks to the sky before he joined her, hand instantly sliding over the interior. The leather of the seat was worn, but maintained; the whole car felt so beautiful, and when she turned the key and the engine roared, he knew that she felt the same pride he felt whenever he started his Impala.

He settled in, shifting until he found the perfect spot before he leant his head back, hanging it over the seat as he took a breath. His neck protested, his skin stretching uncomfortably as the stitches tugged, but he didn't care. He enjoyed the roar as she revved to each gear and then the gentle purr as she glided onto the highway to head towards Miami Beach. She guided the car effortlessly through traffic, the ease she felt radiating to him as they sat in companionable silence.

Soon, the ride ended as she pulled up by the curb. He sat up, blinking, wondering for a moment if the purr of the engine had sent him off to sleep in his weary state, but he shook it off. He'd been aware of everything, of every moment even though his eyes had been closed, the flashing of street lights painful to his tired gaze.

He flinched at a sharp stab in his side. 'What are you poking me for?'

She smiled, a hint of the devil within her pale eyes. 'Just checking you're awake,' she said and he rolled his eyes, climbing out of the car.

'Course I'm awake,' he said, wishing the thump in his head would dull, but knowing he would have the feeling of hammers on his skull for quite some time. Despite the pain, he jogged to catch up to her, her slender legs – clad in the tightest denim he had ever seen – somehow reaching what he liked to call "Sammy pace" with her strides. 'Don't take this the wrong way,' he said, fixing the collar of his jacket as he caught up to her, 'but how the hell does a girl like you get so strong?'

'A girl like me?' she asked, looking to quirk an eyebrow at him.

'You know…small.'

'Whatever do you mean?' she asked, Dean pleased he caught the feigned ignorance before he brought a hand to the top of her head, thinking to measure her up against himself.

'Let's face it,' he said as they entered a low-key bar with few patrons, heading for a booth in the corner, knowing that their topics of conversation would catch too much attention at the bar. 'You're not exactly built for the work of a hunter, but you took out those vamps like you were the chosen one, Buffy style.'

She smirked, sliding into the booth, leaning on her elbows as he sat opposite her. 'I'll take that as a compliment, the Buffy part,' she said, reaching into her jacket. She held a thin tin which she placed on the table before continuing, 'as for the small, I guess I am rather petite, but fourteen years of gymnastics and ballet do wonders, and not just for flexibility'

He nearly gawked. 'You're that strong because of _ballet_?'

'And gymnastics,' she said, popping open the tin, 'and not just because of that, but it was a good base of strength when I started training as a hunter.' She smirked, taking a cigarette from the tin before she reached into her shirt – bra – pulling out a carved Zippo lighter. 'Guess that's why people always sprout that "can't judge a book by its cover" crap.'

She pushed the tin towards Dean, who shook his head. She shrugged, leaning back, a slow plume of smoke rising from her lips as she exhaled.

'And Sam thinks I'm unhealthy,' Dean said, though he couldn't help a smile as she sent a perfect ring of smoke drifting to the ceiling.

She smiled. 'An occasional guilty pleasure after a hard night,' she said, 'not one I'm particularly proud of, but not one I will quit either.'

'How occasional?'

'A couple times a week,' she said, taking another drag, 'depends on what I'm hunting.'

Dean leant back. 'I can't figure you out, and that's a rare thing to me.'

'Ladies man, are you?' she asked, kicking up booted feet, resting them on the far corner of the table. She held his gaze, the blue so pale he wondered if she might still be wearing those contacts, but before he could decide she looked away, her focus drawn to a waiter to order.

Dean used her distraction, his eyes wandering leisurely over her features as if determined to memorise them. After all, he had thought he would never see her again, never gaze upon her porcelain skin or crimson lips, yet somehow she sat before him.

_Lucky bastard._

Even when her eyes fell to him again, he couldn't stop staring. She really was beautiful, though she looked so fragile. Normally, he seemed to go for strong women, or at least women who looked strong with sinful curves and sun kissed skin, but Kali…She was something else entirely; seemingly fragile, but tougher than many of the hunters he had encountered over his many years trapped in a life he wanted to escape.

She waved a hand in front of his face, clicking her fingers at him until he shook the glaze from his eyes, clearing his throat. 'Sorry,' he mumbled, 'must be this headache getting to me.'

'Sorry I didn't cut in from the start.'

'Doesn't matter,' he assured her, 'I've taken worse knocks.'

A sad smile. 'Haven't we all.' She placed what was left of the cigarette between her lips and shrugged her jacket aside to reveal her shoulder. The light was dull in the bar, but still he saw the puckered skin of a scar, a line that went from her bicep, along her shoulder and then disappeared beneath the singlet top. 'A demon with a fetish for knives did this to me in Tennessee, right before I could exorcise the bastard.' For a moment, he wondered how she'd managed to speak so clearly with the cigarette still firmly seated between her lips, but his attention shifted as she fixed her jacket before she pulled the sleeve up, showing him her wrist. At first, he saw only a tattoo of a heart, but as she placed her arm on the table in the light, he saw the ragged marks that marred her skin.

'Are those–'

'Teeth marks?' she finished. 'Yes.'

Dean reached out, tracing them before he met her gaze again. 'Vampire?'

'Ōkami, actually' she said, drawing her hand away to push her sleeve back down. She took the cigarette between her fingers, smoke drifting from her lips. 'That scar is over four years old now. Bitch bit deep, tearing skin and even catching veins, nicking my artery. I was lucky not to bleed out.' She scratched absently at it. 'Still hurts sometimes.'

'And that happened four years ago?'

She nodded and Dean frowned. He opened his mouth, meaning to ask her a question, but a beer was placed in front of him. Instantly his mouth watered, and he reached for the glass. No, the alcohol would probably not help his dry throat, but hydration be damned, he was at least taking a sip of that nectar.

'We risk a lot, don't we?'

He placed the near empty glass on the table. 'We protect people.'

More smoke drifted. 'People we don't know. People we've never met and never will meet. People that may very well have found entertainment in some of the pain we have witnessed as long as they were not the ones experiencing it. This is turning into a rather cruel world, after all.' She captured his gaze, literally held him hostage within the pale blue that guarded so many secrets, so many emotions that he could not decipher. Another drag before she said, 'why should we save them? Why should I continue to hunt when no one was there to save me?'

'Save you from what?'

The last of the smoke drifted, a ring circling his head before vanishing into nothing. She smiled, but it was empty, so very different from before. 'Doesn't matter,' she said, the butt of the cigarette crushed in the ash tray before she reached for her beer. 'I guess I just wonder why I do this sometimes, but it is worth it in the end. If I hadn't turned up, you'd be a bloodless corpse right now.'

'True,' he said, unsettled but still just as curious as before. Even behind the genuine smiles he had seen, she was hiding pain, deep and scarring. This was the type of woman he should distance himself from, the type of woman he should smile at and then walk away because it would only lead to trouble, but as they began to share more stories, about their bad hunts and their good ones, he felt himself leaning closer. He told her of his life under the wing of a hunter, of the moves from motel to motel, from school to school all through his youth. He spoke of his life after school, when he hunted with his dad and eventually the pain he had felt when Sam had left to go to Stanford. It had felt like a betrayal, but even still he could not hold his anger at Sam, not when he wondered if he too could ever have something else.

She even opened up to him. Though she would not admit it, he could see the misery in her eyes, the desire to go back to the life before hunting, to the two things she had held so dearly; ballet and gymnastics. She revealed that most of her life had been spent in good schools and eventually a gymnastics academy after graduation, that whenever she needed comfort she would find a gym to practice her old routines or snippets of performances.

It was strange, how she seemed to speak only of the time before she became a hunter or some time after, when she began to train in martial arts. He wanted to ask how she had come to know the cruel world of the supernatural, but he knew that he would regret it. She was careful in her words, avoiding the subject just a he avoided the subject of that night in 1983. It was too soon to reveal the bloody events of their rebirth as a hunter.

Too soon, still with so many stories to tell, they were kicked out of the bar. It was four in the morning, both tipsy only because of the shots they had indulged in a half hour before the barman became sick of their laughter as Dean recounted the night he and Sam set off a box of fireworks in an empty field, having to make a break for it as the field burned.

The drive back along the highway was filled with more laughter and more stories, many from her school days. He enjoyed them, a part of him wishing he knew what it was like to truly have been a part of a school, though he had never particularly been interested in education. No, it was the idea of being brought together by a football game or another win that intrigued him. He wished he had stayed long enough in one place to experience that unity. Even more intriguing though, he had learned that in her senior year she had become a cheerleader, using her skills as a gymnast and dancer to forever change the style of cheerleading at her school.

Okay, so maybe he just liked the idea of her in a cheerleading uniform.

'God, I wish I could go back sometimes, even if just to relive a day,' she said, still smiling as she pulled up in front of his motel. She climbed out of her car, walking with him to the door, telling herself that she was still worried about the injuries he'd sustained, nothing more.

They paused, Dean knowing he should just go inside but wanting nothing more than to prolong the little time he had left with her. He looked down at her, his gaze drawn straight to those pools of pale blue. 'I guess this is it,' he said, all his usual smooth operating sprinting from his muddled mind.

'I guess it is,' she said, glancing to the door. 'I hope your brother won't be too mad.'

'Sammy? Nah, he's probably asleep at his laptop,' he said, smiling, an urge creeping into his mind, one that he so desperately wanted to act on.

_Distraction?_

Oh, the suggestion was weak at best, but he grasped it, rummaging in his jacket pockets, surprised but pleased to find a scrap of paper and a pen. He leant against the door, quickly scrawling digits onto the page before he held it out to her. 'This is my number. If you need anything…' He smiled. 'Well, I doubt that you'd need anything, but if you ever do, call.'

She smiled, reaching out for the paper. She covered his hand, a flush that she tried to hide coming over her cheeks, one that instantly had that urge reigniting in his mind.

_No, no, no, _he said whilst another part of his mind screamed, _yes, yes, yes!_

He reached for the door knob, pausing, looking to her for what would have to be the last time. They were hunters, their work leading them all over the country in an effort to protect people from the Supernatural. Oh, he might hear from her, but see her…He could only hope.

He pulled a half-hearted grin over his lips. 'Thanks again for saving my ass.'

Again that smile, so captivating. 'Guess you'll have to look after yourself better from now on.'

_Yes._

The door forgotten, he reached for her. His elbow – still displeased with its earlier mistreatment – protested, but as he claimed her lips the pain was forgotten. He wrapped her in his embrace, tasted those wicked lips and revelled in the feeling of her gripping at his shoulders. It was potent; her scent – a mix of vanilla and cinnamon – was a delightful invasion in his senses as she pulled herself closer.

When he pulled his head back, they were both gasping for breath, those crimson lips plump, so ready for another kiss, but before he could claim it she kissed his cheek and pulled away. She disappeared into the darkness, out of sight, but he heard the revving of her car and the spin of tires as she drove off, leaving him standing in front of the door, dumbstruck.

He reached up, tracing a finger over his lips, still tasting her kiss, but all too soon the bliss of the moment was replaced by regret and a string of curses as he realised that he hadn't asked for her number.

He wasn't dumbstruck, he decided as he reached again for the door knob, he was just plain dumb.

* * *

><p>She pulled up, the car still purring as she reached for the paper she had placed on the seat. Her fingers, usually perfectly still, shook as she unfolded it, staring at the number, feeling as though she could memorise it. In the dim light, she looked at her reflection in the rear-view mirror, reaching up to trace her lips with her fingers. She could still feel his arms around her, his body so warm, his embrace so inviting.<p>

She shook her head, reaching across to stuff the page into the dash compartment, needing it out of her sight. The world and their job were too dangerous. She did not form connections, attachments, because as she had learned five years ago, it would only hurt her in the end.

Dean Winchester, no matter how much she wanted to know him, to hear more of those stories and share more of her life with him, was not a man she could befriend, no matter how desperately her heart desired it.

She wouldn't – couldn't – see Dean Winchester again.

* * *

><p><em>Next update: Saturday the 23rd of April.<em>


	4. Helping Hand

FOUR

HELPING HAND

Dean was careful closing the door, the latch barely making a click as it slid into place. He breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing before he turned, hoping he wouldn't trip over anything in the dark on the way to his bed. As he tip-toed, inching closer to the mattress, the light flicked on. He jumped, his eyes burning for a moment before they could adjust to the sudden brightness. He rubbed them, then focused, pulling a smile over his lips as a glare hit him.

'Sammy,' he said, continuing towards his bed, hoping his brother hadn't really noticed how startled he had been, 'I didn't know you'd still be up.'

'I heard your car.'

'Ah, that's a funny story actually, see my car is–'

'What the hell happened to your neck?' Sam threw his legs off the edge of the bed, standing, one stride taking him to Dean's side. He grabbed his brother's chin, gently tipping his head to the side before he reached up, pulling at the tape to reveal the treated wound beneath. 'Jesus Dean, what happened to you?'

Dean batted Sam's hand away, reaching up to re-stick the tape. 'I disagreed with a vampire,' he said, sitting on the edge of his bed, shrugging his jacket of. 'Bloody bitch knocked me out with a two-by-four, then kidnapped me.'

'Why?'

'She knew who I was. She and her lover-boy were going to use me to lure you out as well,' he said, kicking off his boots before he fell back on the bed, regretting the action instantly as the pillow scraped against his scalp. He rolled onto his side, his eyes shut as the throb that had dulled came burning back to life. 'Tell you what Sammy, if Kali hadn't saved my ass, you'd be digging my grave.'

'Kali?'

'Sexy little vampire chick, the one who took on the wraith we'd been hunting and won,' he said, eyes still closed as he fought the headache, 'turns out she's not just good with knives, but with swords too.'

'She took on a vampire with a sword?'

'Two.'

'Two vampires? By herself?'

Dean cracked an eye open. 'I wasn't exactly in any shape to help.'

Sam opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. Dean waited, knowing he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure if it would find a way through the surprise his brother felt. Finally, 'wow.'

'No kidding,' Dean said, reaching to the lamp, desperate to turn it off. Seeing his brother's flailing arm, Sam reached across, flipping the switch for Dean. He heard a sigh and the rustle of sheets.

'So, her name is Kali?'

'Kali Saxton,' Dean said. 'She's pretty tough, Sam, but damn she's broken up inside.'

'What makes you say that?'

Dean pursed his lips, feeling the silence spread through the darkness. He released another sigh. 'She's a hunter, Sam,' he said finally, hearing his brother lay back down, knowing he'd have his hands ducked behind his head as he thought through the next words to be uttered, 'we're all broken inside.'

* * *

><p><em>Phoenix, Arizona.<em>

She worked quickly, hearing footsteps, knowing that soon the demon would find her. She had pissed him off, and she had known that he would chase her, desperate to kill a hunter, and that was exactly what she had wanted.

So long as she could get this bloody demon trap drawn.

She added the final lines, dropping the chalk and picking up her shotgun again, darting around a corner to wait. She checked the barrels, reloading, then pulled the leg of her jeans up, grabbing her knife, one made entirely of iron. Soon she could hear his footsteps.

'A bit slow, aren't you,' she called, taunting. The more focus the bastard held on her, the less likely he would notice her little trap. 'I mean, you're not a very good demon if you can't even catch little old me.' A laugh, just so it would sting.

Still the echo of footsteps, closer and closer before a voice called, 'I'm going to use your spine as a toothpick, little girl.'

'That's a new one,' she said, 'think that up all by yourself, or did you get a little help from daddy?'

A snarl. Oh yes, he was pissed. Kali felt a little smirk when she heard a cry in the next instant, one of rage, heavy as it filled the garage. She stepped around the corner, gun at the ready, the smirk turning to a smile as she saw the demon in the trap. It had possessed a beast of a man, over six feet tall and built like a truck, his biceps nearly tearing the fabric of the stretched shirt that was flush against rope after rope of muscle.

'Must be humiliating for you, being tricked by little old me,' she said, gun pointed at his chest, just in case he was only pretending to be trapped, though she could see no smudges in the chalk. By the way his muscles strained though, she knew he was well and truly stuck. She smiled, tilting her head a little. 'I mean, really, how will you tell this story to all your demon buddies when I send you back to hell?'

He smirked. 'You think you're so tough, little girl, but you won't be so confident when we take this earth.'

'Getting ahead of yourself, aren't you?' she said. 'Now, be a good boy and shut up. Latin is a very hard language and I need to get this exorcism right.'

'It will do you no good, sending me back to hell. I am not the only one. We are many, and we are strong. You will not stop us, not when death will come.'

'It seems no one ever told you that silence is golden, but then I've always believed the true saying should be 'silence is golden but duct tape is silver',' she said, twirling her knife on her fingertip, 'now, shut up while I exorcise you.'

She started the ritual, and all the while the demon spoke. She tried to ignore him, to forget the words he said, but they unsettled her. They more than unsettled her actually; they frightened her as his voice grew more intense, only silenced when his strained words were replaced by screams, his head falling back so that black smoke could rise. It rushed from the possessed, the giant of a man falling in a heap when the demon had left him.

Kali dropped to her knees, placing her shotgun at her side and re-sheathing her knife at her ankle. She reached for his thick neck, breathing a sigh of relief when she felt a pulse, a little erratic but still strong. He was alive, but she had no idea what his injuries might be.

She dug in her pocket, pulling out her phone and calling an ambulance. She gave the location, giving vague but believable details, hanging up as soon as her name was asked. She picked up her shotgun, found the piece of chalk she'd abandoned and stepped over his prone body, feeling sorry for him. She didn't know how long he'd been possessed, but any possession – if survived – could break the strongest of men and women.

Even as she walked away, concealed by the midnight shadows as she perched the shotgun on her shoulder, she could not shake the demon's words from her mind. There had been demons before that gathered together, threatening an apocalypse, but she had never seen something so…organised. Most demons partied, enjoying the luxuries of a human host, but not in the lair she had stumbled upon. They had hidden themselves away, surrounded by books that chilled her with their very covers. She had only encountered three, but she could tell that they were not alone in their work, that there had been others that had passed through by the way the demons had talked while she had prepared to make her entrance.

Something big was rising, something that no hunter had ever encountered before, and she had no idea what to do.

She slid into her car, tucking the shotgun beneath the seat, her bag of goodies – essentials – tossed on the back seat. She reached over to the glove box, pulling out her netbook, thinking to do some research before she headed to a motel. Her attention was caught though, her eyes following the flash of white that floated to the floor of her Cobra. She placed the netbook on the seat, reaching for it.

As she unfolded the page, her fingers brushed her lips, the memory of their kiss forever lingering, seared sweetly on her flesh. She felt her heart stutter, her lips tingling, warmth spreading from head to toe until she was sure she might blush.

All because of a memory, of just that taste of Dean Winchester.

'I shouldn't call him,' she said, tossing the paper aside to pull her netbook into her lap. She opened it, turning it on, busying herself. Her eyes still darted though, flicking to glance at that page, at that number.

_To hear his voice again…_ a part of her mind teased, her hand itching to reach for that page though – what she liked to think of as her rational side – refused to move her fingers from the keys as she typed.

_To taste his lips…_

Her fingers actually paused. She curled her hands into fists, closing her eyes. Even the supposedly rational part of her mind was leaning towards the paper, desperate to read the numbers through her eyelids. Before she knew what she was doing, her phone was in her hand, somehow magically pulled from the snug pocket of her jeans without her say so or approval.

She glanced from the device to the page and back again, worrying her bottom lip. She really was out of her depth with the research, she reasoned as she reached for the page, trying to tell herself that she was calling for Sam's research expertise and not because she wanted another taste of Dean Winchester, another feel of those lips and that hardened chest that she so desperately wanted to–

'Enough,' she growled at herself, wishing her hormones would settle down as she punched the numbers in and dialled. As the first ring sounded, she worried her bottom lip again, wondering if maybe it were too soon. After all, it hadn't yet been a month since Miami, since she had left him at that motel door without even saying goodbye. All she had offered was a kiss on the cheek before she'd become the coward she swore she would never be.

Another ring, and already she was regretting pressing that button as her mind filled with that scene, the panic that had invaded her senses just before she had pulled from his arms hitting her again. Could she really see him, be near him? She could sense that already she was in too deep, that she was allowing herself to be captivated, enthralled by the attraction between them, attraction that she had not felt in so long.

So very long.

But attraction in her world, beyond the sating of desires that cannot truly be tamed, was too dangerous for a heart to risk. Even as she realised this on the third ring, she knew that there was no way she was going to hang up, that she would still wait to hear his voice.

'Hello?'

She knew she should say something as he said, 'hello?' again, but her mouth would move. She took a breath, reminding herself that she needed the Winchester's help, that there was no way she could tackle the cult-like activities of demons on her own.

'It's Kali.'

There was silence on the other end, worrying her until finally, 'I hoped you would call.' Another moment, his voice changing as he asked, 'are you okay?'

She felt a smile quirk her lips, not remembering the last time anyone had been worried about her, yet this man – a man she had spent mere hours with – was concerned for her.

'All limbs attached,' she said, 'but I think I need some help with a case.'

'What's happening?'

'There's some cult-like activity here, and it's all demons. I'd like to think I can handle this on my own, but I need back up, especially in the research department,' she said, surprised she could pick a sentence out of her jumbled thoughts when they were distracted by the delicious, gravelly edge in his voice that was borderline husky. That huskiness, was that how he sounded in the throes of–

_Oh for gods sake! Focus, _she commanded her mind as he said, 'where's it going down?'

'Phoenix.'

'We're in Tucson. We'll see you in a couple hours.'

'Come on, Dean, I'm disappointed,' she said, feeling a smirk light her lips, stronger now, her confidence returning, 'I could do that trip in just over one.'

* * *

><p>Oh, now he knew why he'd been waiting to hear her voice, why he'd been desperate for it. The weeks had felt like months, dragging even as he and Sam had travelled, working on case after case, demon activity on the rise. There was no denying that what she had said could be possible, that the demons gathering were engaging in cult like activity, though he hadn't believed it until now.<p>

But, even when he knew he should be worrying about a threatened apocalypse, there was no way he could ignore those words as he wondered if she had felt the same, if she had been wanting to hear his voice as much as he had craved the sound of hers.

'Challenge accepted,' he said, getting the meeting place from her before he hung up, staring at the number on the phone. He quickly saved it, unable to stop the smile that spread from ear to ear, even as he turned to his brother. 'We're going to Phoenix.'

Sam looked up from the keyboard, leaning back in his chair. 'And why are you so happy about that?'

_Because _she's_ there..._

'There's some serious demon activity going down, even heavier than what we've been finding by the sounds of it,' he said, trying to hide his excitement while he grabbed his shirt, glad he'd gotten out of the shower when he had. He pulled the plain black t-shirt on, his jacket over the top before he found his Colt.

Dean started packing the few items the brother's had in a bag, Sam watching his every movement, his brow quirked. 'It's that girl, isn't it?' he asked. 'She's the one who called.'

'Kali needs some help, Sam,' he said, being sure to emphasise her name, 'and we can't say no to a hunter in need, especially when it comes to demons trying to bring an apocalypse.'

'They're always trying to bring the apocalypse,' Sam said, moving his hands just in time to avoid having his laptop slammed onto his fingers as Dean walked by, still busily packing their last few possessions, including a shotgun and newly packed rock salt shells.

'Why are you in such a rush?'

'Because we need to handle this,' Dean said, trying to sound serious, even though secretly he was smiling.

'It's still a two hour drive at least,' Sam said, saving his laptop from being thrown into a bag full of knives and guns. He held it to his chest, staring at his brother. 'This isn't really about the demons, is it? This is all about Kali.'

Dean stopped. He zipped the bag, hanging it over his shoulder, knowing that he'd been caught. He looked to his brother. 'She asked for our help, Sam, and you and I both know that we can't ignore that there is something big going down. The more of us working on this, the more likely we'll stop it before it gets too big for us to kill.'

Sam stared at his brother, meeting his gaze. He saw something lurking within the blue depths, something that he hadn't seen for such a long time; there was no room for such strong emotion as a hunter.

Need.

Though Dean wouldn't admit it, he needed to see this girl. Sam wasn't sure why, but his brother had been different lately, withdrawn; instead of chasing the girls in short skirts at bars, or even leering at them with the eyes of a testosterone fuelled man, he had merely glanced and then turned back to his beer. Nothing had been right since Miami, nothing had been normal, though that word had no place in their vocabulary.

'You're right,' Sam admitted, thinking of the demons they had encountered recently, thinking of the things they said, the words each of them had spoken before they were exorcised or abandoned their hosts.

_You will not stop us, not when death will come._

'Then let's go,' Dean said, already out the door and heading for his Impala. He dropped the bag in the trunk after a quick glance around to see if anyone was watching, knowing that the devil's trap in the trunk would attract some raised eyebrows if it were seen.

Sam joined him in the car, his laptop at his feet. 'So,' he said as Dean slid the key into the ignition, 'Phoenix is two hours away, and it's nearly midnight. Where are we supposed to be meeting her?'

Dean revved the Impala. 'A bar,' he said, smirking as Sam tried to find something to hold on to as Dean threw the car in reverse, turned and then sped onto the road, 'and we'll be there in one.'

* * *

><p>Kali fiddled with the chains on her wrist, the iron singing as it rubbed together while she twisted it, rolling the looped strands between her fingertips. She grabbed the beer, perched on the edge of the table, taking as sip before she reached into her jacket for that thin tin, drawing a cigarette from it. She placed it between her lips, still watching the door, knowing that if Dean had taken that taunt seriously, he and his brother would soon be walking through the very door her gaze was locked on.<p>

As she reached for her Zippo, stashed safely in her bra as it usually was, she paused. A man walked through the door, a laptop bag over his shoulder. He was tall, broad, and a smirk lit Kali's lips when he turned her way. It was Sam, the younger Winchester that she had only met once – briefly – in that club. No doubt he wasn't happy with her, considering that she had left him and Dean to deal with the body of the wraith after she had killed it.

He had a stern set to his brow as he scanned the room, though he probably would not recognise her. Not that she cared, knowing that she looked so very different out of that vampire disguise.

Her mind lost track though, her eyes finding Dean's as he came through the door behind his brother. His gaze locked with hers, and she felt her breath hitch. It took all of her concentration to open the Zippo and bring it to the end of the cigarette. It took even more to light the damn thing and hold it steady. She placed the lighter on the table, needing that first, slow drag to calm herself as the brother's walked towards her, equally intimidating despite their differences in height.

She stood, holding out her hand to Sam, a smile on her lips. 'I must apologise, for not properly introducing myself in that club. My name is Kali, Kali Saxton. It's nice to meet you, Sam.'

He smiled, but there was the finest layer of ice in his gaze as he said, 'you too.'

Obviously, she was going to have to earn his trust after the little wraith stunt. Still, she kept that smile on her lips as she turned to Dean. She ignored the urge to simply fall into his arms as she wanted, instead just offering her hand. 'Nice to see you haven't been kidnapped by vampires again, Dean.'

His hand was warm as he took hers, his grip tight. As her pale blue eyes held his she wondered, only for a moment, if his thoughts mirrored hers, if he wanted exactly as she did.

To finish that kiss.

'Well, I can't say that I don't blame them for trying. Everyone wants a piece of this ass.' He smiled, a hint of wickedness in his gaze that really made her wonder, this time for more than a moment, if he wanted that kiss as desperately as she did.

A girl could hope.

'Dean says that you've run into some demons.'

As her gaze went to Sam, she pulled away from Dean, only then realising that their hands had still been together. Killing the blush that threatened to spread over her cheeks, she smiled at Sam again, pulling away from Dean to take her seat at the booth again, sliding to the far side. She took another drag of her cigarette, holding it in her lungs, still trying to calm her apparently on-edge nerves, as well as occupying her hands. She exhaled, rings of smoke drifting into the air as Sam and Dean watched, a strange smile on Dean's lips while a frown drowned any of the youth that should have been in Sam's gaze.

Oh yes, he really didn't approve of smoking.

'If this bothers either of you, I can–'

'It's fine,' said Sam, his smile even more fleeting than before. 'Tell us about the demons.'

_Okay, _Kali thought, _straight down to business then._

She quickly reeled off what she had seen, the gatherings, the books and the various documents with symbols that looked like nothing she had ever seen before. Then there were the words, the very same threats that Sam and Dean had heard.

She crushed the butt of her cigarette in the ash tray, tempted to reach for another, but distracted as Dean asked his brother, 'have you found anything in your research?'

Sam shook his head. 'I'm going to keep looking tonight,' he said, reaching for the laptop bag at his feet. As he pulled out the laptop, Kali allowed herself a glance at Dean, quickly looking away when her gaze met his. All throughout her explanation, he had been looking at her. She had tried to tell herself that he was just being attentive – after all, Sam had been looking at her too – but now, as she sat in silence while Sam booted up his laptop, she knew that it wasn't just attentiveness that drove his stare, and that knowledge sent shivers – good or bad, she didn't know – sprinting down her spine.

'You know what, I think I'll head back to the motel to do this,' he said, closing the laptop, startling Dean who looked to his brother.

'Shoulder still hurting?'

Sam sighed. 'I had a sword driven through my shoulder, so yes Dean, it still hurts.' He grabbed the bag, throwing it over what must have been his healthy shoulder as he stood. 'I might see if I can get demons are threatening to raise.'

'You know what, take the car,' Dean said, reaching into his pocket to find the keys to the Impala.

Sam paused, quirking an eyebrow. 'Really?'

'No, I'm just teasing you,' Dean said, rolling his eyes as he tossed the keys to his brother. 'It's not that far. I'll just walk.'

Sam glanced between them as Dean captured her gaze, a part of him believing he should stay and keep an eye on them, but another remembering that part of the reason he and Dean were here was probably to get this girl out of Dean's system.

'Alright, see you later. I guess.'

Kali glanced at Sam as he turned to leave, but Dean's gaze never faltered. When those blue eyes captured her again, she knew there was no escape, not anymore. There was no denying that there was something between them still, that the attraction she had felt in that kiss was still burning.

_Gulp._

'I should probably head back to my motel too, get some sleep while I can,' she said, needing to leave, to put some space between them before she did something she might regret, like, kiss him. She stood up, grabbing another cigarette from the thin tin that she had left of the table before tucking it back into her jacket, as well as grabbing her lighter. She lit the cigarette as she walked towards the door, tucking the Zippo beneath her t-shirt, back in its place in her bra.

She reached for the handle, but was beaten to it. She looked up at him, the cigarette forgotten as it hung between her fingers.

'Let me walk you to your car.'

'It's at my motel.'

'Well,' he said, 'let me walk you to your room.'

She nodded, wishing now that she'd driven. Instead of shaking her head like she wanted to in an attempt to rid her mind of the suggestions it gave her, she pulled a smirk over her lips. 'Such a gentleman.'

He smiled, and her heart stuttered. He held the door open for her, letting her pass before he followed behind, coming to walk at her side. As she blew a ring of smoke that faded as she walked through it, he asked, 'how do you do that?'

She smiled, trying to pretend that she wasn't warring with various emotions inside. 'Skill,' she said simply, exhaling another ring. 'I have to ask, do you and your brother really share a room like you do in the books?'

She saw Dean cringe. 'You've read that stuff?'

'Some of it, though I admit that the really good stuff is in the fan fiction.'

Dean cringed again, though this time his face contorted with disgust. Obviously, he knew about it, and obviously he wasn't pleased in the slightest.

Oh, the fun she could have with this knowledge.

'You should see some of the things I have read. Ever heard the phrase, "Dean and Sam take the 'her' out of Winchester"?' she asked, and by the sudden paleness that spread over his skin, she guessed that even if he had never heard the phrase, he had understood the meaning.

'Some people are twisted, sick in the head even,' he said, 'I mean, to dream up new horrors for us to face…why would you do that?'

'Because they don't believe it's real,' Kali said, taking one last drag from the cigarette before she dropped it on the pavement, crushing it with her booted toes.

They were outside her door. 'But you did,' he said, 'you must have, if you knew us.'

'I've been a hunter for some time now, Dean. I heard stories long before those books were published about two brothers who were kicking some serious supernatural butt. When I saw you and Sam, the way you looked and the way you interacted, I just connected the dots.'

'And you don't wonder how the author knows about what we've done?'

She smiled. 'No, but considering the fact that you haven't tried to kill the guy, I'm going to say it's not a demon.'

His lips quirked too. 'Fair point,' he said, 'though we still want to stop him from writing.'

'Then why don't you?' she asked, leaning against the wall beside her door. 'I mean, I'm sure you two could find him.'

'We did, but the thing is…' he looked to the ground for a second, another smile, one that was almost disbelieving of himself came over his lips. 'You're not going to believe this, but the guy is…he's a prophet. Writing it down, it's the only way he can get it out of his head.'

Now she understood the smile. 'A prophet?' she looked out to the darkness of the sky. 'In a world filled with demons? I can't believe that.'

'You better start, because there are angels too,' he said, stepping a little closer. 'I didn't believe it at first either, but…well, there are. I've met one, and let's just say that he's tough for a little nerdy guy with wings.'

She smiled at him, meeting his gaze. 'I want to believe you, but I just don't think I can,' she said, trying to squash the hope that swelled in her chest, the hope that so desperately clung to the idea that angels existed. Needing to distract herself, she pulled a smirk over her lips, saying, 'you never answered my question.'

His eyebrow quirked. 'Which question?'

'The one about you and Sam, whether you share a room like you do in the books.'

His mouth opened and closed for a second, doing a stunning impression of a fish before he finally gritted his teeth and said, 'yes.'

She giggled. 'Oh, the things that are circling the internet,' she said, unable to stop the last of her laughter from escaping before adding, 'if you ever get curious and Google yourself, don't click on anything that says that it may contain slash.'

He frowned. 'Slash?'

'Trust me, you'd prefer shipping,' she said, and then did what was possibly the stupidest thing she could have done after spending so long trying to tame her thoughts, her actions.

She stepped away from her leaning post beside the door to her room. He quirked his eyebrow at her when she grabbed his shirt collar, turning him around before she backed him up against the wall.

* * *

><p><em>Next update: Saturday the 30th of April.<em>


	5. Ritual

FIVE

RITUAL

When she claimed his lips, he couldn't help but sigh. The softness of her mouth, of her skin as he wrapped his arms around her, his hands on her hips to search for bare skin revealed by her t-shirt, one too short to cover her slender stomach when she reached up. He could taste the cigarette on her tongue when he delved into her mouth, but wasn't bothered by it, not when her moan vibrated through his whole body.

He urged her closer, fitting her body snugly against his and finding no resistance even when his hands wandered slowly to the back pockets of her jeans. It was a tight fit, but with his hands inside of those pockets he cupped her curves, toned and perfect after years of ballet, gymnastics and hunting. Withdrawing them, he took a firmer hold of her thighs as he pulled her up his body, turning to pin her against the wall as she had him, her legs wrapping tight around his waist. Still their kiss continued, their lips never parting as the moment turned feverish with their wants, their needs.

He felt her hands in his hair, on his neck, and now that she was held against the wall by his arms they wandered to his chest. Never had he known a girl to be so soft in embrace, but so unafraid to show her passion. She tore his shirt open, the plain black tee parting to reveal his chest. He nearly growled when those hands – so dainty but sporting the calluses of a warrior – rested hot against his skin, her fingernails scraping down as far as she could reach to tear the fabric more.

He pulled back, both panting, his breath sharp as he asked, 'what if I had really liked this shirt?'

She smirked, her lips red from his kiss, her porcelain cheeks dusted with a pink flush. She ran her tongue over her teeth, much like on that first night, though she lacked the fangs. Still he felt his heart beat harder, his eyes drawn to the pink tip.

'Fuck it,' he said, claiming her lips again. They were in the middle of the motel parking lot, and he couldn't have cared less who saw them as her fingernails dug into his neck to draw him impossibly closer, her back arching so she pressed against him, her actions maddening.

'Where's your key?' he asked when they broke for another breath, though even their lungs would have been happy to starve to continue their kiss.

She leant back from him, reaching into the front pocket of her jeans. She smiled when she produced the key. 'You're going to have to let me down.'

He took it from her, saying, 'bullshit,' as he unlocked the door with her still pinned against the wall. The door swung wide and he gripped that perfect ass again, but her sharp cry of 'put me down!' startled him.

He released her legs and she ducked around him. He turned just in time to watch her slam into a man. Confusion hit him, but then he noticed another approaching, black filling his eyes. Dean pulled out the knife, the one taken from Ruby's host after he and Sam had exorcised the bitch, knowing they would need it; they had no other weapons apart from blades, no other way to fight.

Until a demon screamed, moving away from Kali. Her arms were swinging, but Dean didn't understand how she was injuring the demon without touching it or using a blade. She swung her lengthy braid too, pulled from beneath her jacket, a thick slash appearing on the demon's face.

His mind was only able to wonder for a moment before he was attacked. He acted quickly, slashing the demon's throat, feeling sorry for the host. There was no other way, not right now, and even then…possession was a horrid thing.

He moved to another, noticing more approaching, all with malicious grins on their black-eyed faces. He reached into his jacket, finding a flask. He opened it, dodging a fist from a demon which he splashed with holy water. It was only good for a quick wash, but it gave him time to pounce, the dagger forced through the chest of the demon, killing it.

He could hear Kali talking, speaking in rapid Latin to the demon she had trapped in her arms. He didn't know how, but she held him, had him wrapped in something that he couldn't quite see in the dimly lit parking lot of the motel. The demon spoke as well, his voice choked as he said, 'Death will come. There is no stopping the pale horse, not with ritual or blade. You will–'

As he watched her finish the ritual, the demon billowed from the host like acrid smoke, never able to finish his threat. Dean couldn't help but be glad that it was so late, that no one had come to investigate the strange noises in the parking lot.

She relaxed whatever grip she had, the body going limp, the host obviously already dead. He looked to her wrists, seeing chains that had to be made of iron that she had been using to harm the demons, but that didn't explain how she had used her hair as a weapon, how she had caused some demons to flee before she'd managed to capture the one she had exorcised. With him holding the blade and her using her _hair_ to scare them off, they apparently made a brilliant demon fighting team.

She wrapped the chains around her wrist again, clicking them back into place with magnetic ends before he reached around to pull her lengthy braid over her shoulder. 'I didn't keep growing my hair just because I thought it looked pretty,' she said, having to pull the braid up like a rope before she could reach the bottom. There was a hair band wrapped around it, snaking its way up a good six inches of the braid, a length of hair beneath it which she pulled back.

For a second, he didn't believe his eyes, but sure enough, there was an iron blade within the strands. When her hair hung at her back, it would disappear within the starlight blonde, but when she whipped her hair around, the strands would reveal it and its danger.

'How do you not kill yourself with that?'

'Practice.' She smiled, dropping down to wipe blood from the blade before she flicked the braid over her shoulder again, letting it hang down her back. Oh, how he wished he could take out that hair band and let that gorgeous starlight blonde cover the pillows or surround him, tickling his chest as he–

_Not the time, _he growled at himself, even as another part of him argued that yes, it was the perfect time, the door to her room still open.

She stepped towards him, once again his crimson angel in all her fighting glory, though she still seemed so small when she stopped in front of him. She reached for the knife, taking it from his hand. 'What is this?' she asked, turning the blade in her hands, tracing the engravings. 'I saw you kill demons with it? How is that possible?'

'I don't know,' he said, taking it back to stash it out of sight, 'it just is.'

'I have to get myself one of those.'

'You seemed to be doing alright without it,' he said on a smile, 'I mean, do you speak fluent Latin?'

She shrugged. 'Pretty much.'

That naughty part that begged him to take her into her room mused, _would she talk dirty in Latin?_

Unable to stop himself, he reached for her, wanting another taste of her lips, but she recognised what his body tried to ignore. Shit was getting worse, and something had to be done.

'We need to get out of here Dean. We need to go to Sam. We've got serious research to do on this new information.'

'New information?'

'"There is no stopping the pale horse",' she said, racing quickly into her still open room to grab her things before she went to her car. No one had emerged from any rooms yet, and all blinds were drawn, no lights shining from windows. They had been lucky that no one had seen anything, and although it would be traumatic no matter what, at least by leaving the bodies here the loved ones would know where their husbands, fathers, brothers were.

She saw him looking at the people at his feet. 'Dean, there's nothing we can do. Get in the car.'

He looked up, nodding, stepping over an arm before he went to the passenger side door and climbed in. She had already thrown her bag in the back seat and had the key in the ignition. He quoted the name of the motel he and Sam were staying at and she reversed, driving just as confidently as he remembered, reminding her of…himself, actually.

They made it to the motel in short time, little traffic standing in their way because of the early hour. Sam had obviously heard them coming, because he opened the door as Kali parked beside the Impala. There were questions in his eyes, but Dean quickly ushered him inside, Kali close behind with her bag, one that was probably far heavier than she made it appear, as heard when she dropped it to the floor with a heavy thud.

'What are you doing here?' Sam asked, gaze firmly fixed on Kali.

'We just fought a bunch of demons, and one of them said something that you might want to hear,' Dean said, narrowing his gaze on his younger brother, telling him that now was not the time to hold a grudge.

'Do you know anything about a pale horse, as related to death?' she asked, shedding her jacket and throwing it on top of her bag before she brought her braid over her shoulder again.

Sam watched for a moment, his eyebrow quirking as she unhooked a blade from the hair band, deciding he'd get an explanation later. 'Well, yeah. The four horsemen of the apocalypse were each identified by a colour; the pale horse…the pale horse is Death.'

For a moment they just stared at each other, Kali and Dean with their gazes on Sam, their jaws slack as Sam glanced between them. The silence was crushing, so heavy that all struggled to draw the next breath, to open their mouths and form a sentence until Kali and Dean cursed in unison.

Despite how serious everything had just become, Kali and Dean still glanced at each other, the smallest hint of a smile lifting their lips before Sam's words slapped them again.

Kali reached into her jacket, pulling out that thin tin. Sam looked at her, glare pointed, accusing, but she just said, 'demons are trying to raise a horseman, probably the worse horseman of the lot, and you're worried about a fire alarm?'

Sam frowned, but his glare softened, even as she pulled her Zippo from her bra.

'We need to stop this before it happens,' she said after she'd taken that first drag, the smoke slowly drifting with her words. She leant against the table beside Sam's laptop, watching Dean as he started to pace, Sam looking like he wasn't far from joining his brother's worried steps.

'There must be a ritual,' Dean said. 'If we can stop the ritual, we stop the horseman from being brought up from Hell for a visit, right?'

'How would we stop the ritual? We don't know when it will be performed, or where.'

'I think we can find out,' Kali said, 'because I found a hideout here in Phoenix, before I called you guys. There were only three there at the time, but there must have been more. The demons talked about others. If we find the others, then we can stop them.'

'How are we supposed to do that?' Sam asked. 'Just walk in and ask nicely?'

'I didn't say it would be easy, but if we can at least get a hold of something that might direct us to the state they're planning to do this ritual in, we can look out for higher demon activity within certain areas.'

Another heavy silence settled over the three of them, the Winchesters lost deep in thought while Kali breathed the last of her cigarette, putting it out in the ash tray. She knew that it was a long shot, that it might be suicide, but they had to act. They had to do _something_.

Before Sam could speak, Dean was startled by a vibration in his pocket. He reached for his phone, pulling it out, glancing to Sam before he answered. 'What is it, Bobby?' For a moment he listened, his brow furrowing at whatever it was that Bobby was telling him as he paused his pacing not far from Kali, saying, 'we're already in Phoenix.'

More silence, and rather than keeping that mere furrowed brown, Dean's skin turned sickly pale, his colour draining. Kali reached for him instinctively, her hand on his arm when he reached for the remote, perched beside Sam's laptop. He turned the small television on, flicking channels until he found one claiming it had a breaking news bulletin. For a moment, the camera merely stared at the ground, only grass visible in the little available light, but soon the apparently shaken cameraman managed to raise his camera, fear seeping through the trembling images that came onto the screen.

He turned the volume up, the shaky camera panning across the scene as an equally shaky female voice spoke. "Massacre or mass suicide? Police are currently investigating the chilling and horrific scene, discovered on the outskirts of Phoenix by a man who has been taken in for further questioning. Though an autopsy is yet to be performed on any of the deceased, the coroner has stated that the time of death can not have been any more than three hours prior to the discovery that occurred a short time after 2:30 this morning…"

They didn't listen to any more. They didn't need to. This was not a massacre, or a suicide. It was a sacrifice, and a tribute, and a willing one at that. No bodies bore wounds, or were tied and forced into positions; they all just lay there, almost as if they had found peace in their final moments. The ritual had not required mere blood, but the lives of the hosts and the souls of the demons themselves.

'We're too late, Bobby,' Dean said, 'Death is walking.'

'What do you mean Death is walking?' Bobby said, biting his tongue before he called the boy and idjit. 'There are always reapers around.'

'This isn't just any reaper. It's one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, and I'm going to guess that he's one nasty son of a bitch.'

Even Kali heard the string of curses that erupted from the phone, Dean having to pull it away from his ear to avoid being deafened.

He tentatively brought the device closer again. 'Bobby, you've got to compile anything you have on this bastard and get it to us. Until then, we'll track him. He can't have gotten far,' Dean said, hanging up and tucking his phone back in his pocket. Dean dropped the remote on the table, heading for his bed to gather the few personal belongings he had in a bag.

Sam did the same, asking, 'how are we going to track it?'

Kali slung her bag over her shoulder. 'It's Death,' she said, Sam and Dean both pausing to look at her, 'we follow the trail of bodies.'

They were silent as they walked out to their cars, squeaks and squeals of door hinges the only sounds filling the parking lot of the motel as they packed their gear and prepared to hit the road, already knowing they would have to start at the site of the ritual. Kali was about to slide into her seat, the door open when Dean grasped her wrist. She faced him, seeing that set jaw and furrowed brow, wishing that she could wipe away the frown and replace it with a smile, but knowing that could not happen, not for a while at least.

'We'll follow you,' he said, and she swore he inched closer, his grip loosening on her wrist, but never releasing her. She couldn't move when he leant forward, just slightly, coming close enough that she could feel his warm breath fall on her parted lips. Normally she would feel nothing, cold because of the tight leash she kept on her emotions, but with Dean…

Oh, how things were changing.

'Sure you can keep up?' she asked, amazed at the strength in her voice when he reached up as if he intended to brush her cheek with his fingertips. She felt her heart flutter with anticipation, but he stopped short and pulled back, looking almost pained. He wanted to touch her; she could see the desire, the need in his eyes, but he had restrained himself. She felt it herself, but he knew as well as she did that now was not the time or place to act on the strengthening attraction that grew between them with each moment, no matter how desperately they wanted to forget their lives as hunters and fall into the other's embrace.

He pulled back, his fingers lingering on her wrist before he turned, heading to his Impala. She watched for a moment before finally sliding into her seat, being in her Cobra somehow easing some of the tension from her shoulders, though her heart still cried for those who had been lost in the ritual, forced to sacrifice their lives for the demons' gruesome purpose.

* * *

><p>Dean followed, reversing the Impala, feeling Sam's glare fixed on the side of his face as they made their way onto the road, close behind Kali as she navigated the Phoenix streets. He reached to turn the music up, to blast some Zeppelin and drown out the awkward silence, but Sam turned the volume down completely, saying, 'she looked like she wanted to kiss you.'<p>

Dean glanced to his younger brother, hoping to see a teasing smile but finding a frown instead. 'What?'

'She looked like she wanted to kiss you,' Sam said, 'like, she _really_ wanted to kiss you.'

'Really?' Dean asked, feeling one of his eyebrows inch a little higher. 'What did I look like?'

'Like you wanted to rip her clothes off.'

Oh, how much he preferred the awkward silence. 'That's none of your business Sammy,' he said, fingers tightening on the steering wheel for a moment before he reached to turn up the music. He drowned out Sam's next words, whatever they were, enjoying the music as he tried to stop a blush – a blush? Really? – before it could settle over his cheeks.

He growled as Sam turned the volume down again. Sam stared at his brother, ignoring the sneering and the glaring as he said, 'this is serious, Dean. You can't get involved with her.'

'Why not?' he snapped, nearly missing the turn that Kali had taken. He made to follow her, a frightened late night driver swerving to avoid a collision. Sam reached for the dashboard, holding on for dear life until the Impala settled down, Dean still somehow in control.

Sam exhaled, needing a moment for his brain to stop screaming in fear before he could remember what he'd been saying. 'One of the horsemen of the apocalypse has been busted out of hell, and all you seem to be thinking about is Kali. You mind doing a little thinking with your upstairs brain?'

That earned Sam another sneer, but even though Dean desperately wanted to ignore his younger brother's words, a part of him – admittedly rather small, but still an undeniable part of him – recognised that what dear little Sammy was saying was true. He needed to keep his head straight.

As he stared at the Cobra that roared ahead of him, he knew that he was facing a very difficult task.

The rest of the trip was silent but for the Led Zeppelin cassette that blasted through the Impala. They parked close by and out of sight, car doors shut carefully to avoid attracting any of the police attention that had formed various perimeters around the sight of the ritual. They crouched in the shadows of their cars, watching police as they patrolled the crime scene, many unable to hide their shakes, some unable to keep the contents of their stomach where it belonged. Even reporters, the most heartless people Kali had ever known to walk to walk the earth when they were hunting a story, were pale, their make-up doing nothing to bronze or colour their cheeks. There were so many bodies, a chill filling the air that had even Kali, Dean and Sam shiver as they watched the baffled officers.

'God, he really has risen,' Kali said, the full force of the knowledge hitting all of them, 'and he's just going to keep killing.'

'We've got to get Bobby's help on this,' Sam said, his gaze intent as he studied the scene. 'Anything we can learn has to help.'

'And until then we just follow the bodies,' Dean said, his jaw tight as he repeated Kali's earlier words. They knew there was no alternative though, no way to anticipate the actions of such a strong force. They would simply have to follow strange deaths and destroyed families until they caught up with the pale horse.

Kali turned from the scene as an engine rumbled behind her. She stared at the white beauty that rolled slowly past, moving so smoothly that it seemed to float. She watched, unable to do anything but stare as a pale face looked back, the slightest smirk lighting his wrinkled face. She felt her chest ache, her throat constricted and dry as the man actually offered a wave.

The Cadillac's tail lights disappeared around a corner, the tightness in her chest and throat releasing as soon as he was out of sight. Able to move, she stood up, Dean and Sam calling out to her as she threw herself into her car, no longer bothering to contain the roar of the Cobra's engine as she sped after the Cadillac. She tracked it through the streets, staying a few car lengths back. She allowed herself to glance behind her, seeing Dean and Sam gaining in the rear view mirror. As soon as she sought out the Cadillac again, she cursed freely and colourfully, unable to see the shining white of the classic. She looked down streets but could not see the car she sought. Knowing that her chase was finished, she pulled up against the curb.

She was still cursing when Dean and Sam parked behind her in the empty street of the outer suburbs of Phoenix. Dean stopped by her side, a hand on her arm as he asked, 'what is it? What were you chasing?'

'Death.'

'Death? What do you–' Sam's eyes widened, his jaw slack for a moment before he said, 'the pale horse, it was that Cadillac.'

It was the Winchesters' turn to curse, Dean even kicking the near by lamp post while Kali leaned against her car, reaching into her jacket pocket. Sam didn't even frown at her when she lit the cigarette with her Zippo, taking a drag as she realised she had lost their only chance to save many, maybe millions, before the horseman made it across the country and even the world. Even if they could stay right on his tail lights, so many would die.

After much silence, Dean finally asked, 'what the fuck are we going to do?'

Kali dropped the butt of the cigarette to the ground, crushing it with the toe of her boots as she exhaled the last breath of the smoke. 'We start the hunt.'

* * *

><p><em>Next update: Saturday the 7th of April.<em>


	6. Light in the Darkness

I cannot apologise enough for my being a week late with this chapter.

A car accident led to a very dear friend of mine being in hospital for quite some time. Add sickness and moving house to the mix and fan fiction had to take a back seat.

I apologise again, but I hope this nice, long (possibly containing naughtiness, if you decide to read on and find out) will make up for it.

* * *

><p>SIX<p>

LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS

New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, South Dekota, Iowa, Missouri…on and on they followed the pale horse, through so many cities, so many states, always just behind the taillights that hailed sudden disasters or untimely passings that could not be explained. It was as though Death merely crooked his finger and the breath of all around him quieted, their hearts unable to stand the chilling presence that passed through, devouring the lives of all he could like locusts swarming in a field.

They had only driven three hours, but after a week of near all-nighters and so many rough nights sleeps that, they knew they needed to stop for a night. They had no new leads on the horseman, no sudden "natural" disasters or numerous curious deaths in a single area. Until Bobby called to report strange weather, they would take some time to rest, to close their eyes for just a moment. After all, Kali had no back up driver. Though she would not admit it, Dean saw the red in her pale eyes, watched her roll her window down periodically to catch the breeze on her face. Despite her exhaustion, she continued on, never allowing either of the slightly more rested Winchester's to take the wheel for an hour or two while she grabbed a power nap.

'I just need coffee,' she'd say whenever they entered a town. Even in their situation, where few opportunities to smile had presented themselves, she had made Dean laugh as they stopped at a café.

'Why didn't you stop at that Starbucks a few miles back?' he had asked.

'Because they can't make coffee,' she had replied.

'What do you mean? Coffee is coffee.'

She had rolled her eyes at him. 'Dean, going to Starbucks for coffee is like going to prison for sex.'

He had stared, and again she had rolled her eyes before she had said, 'well, you'll get it, but it's going to be rough.'

Even Sam had smiled, unable to conceal the twitch of his lips despite their seemingly hopeless situation. Dean on the other hand, felt as though he had lost some of his dignity that day, a snort escaping before he could stop it, which had only made him laugh harder in their weary state. Even just thinking about it now brought a smile to his lips, but the familiar road that stretched before him stole any of the lingering contentment of that moment. A part of him had known as they followed the highway out of Missouri that their path was already set, that they were being drawn towards a place that they had seemed to do nothing but run from.

He followed those familiar roads, seeing Sam tense beside him as they pulled up against the curb. He glanced to Dean but his older brother was already climbing from the car, looking up at the house that he only remembered in dreams, ones that always turned to nightmares.

Kali pulled up behind his Impala, the roar of the engine dull compared to the roar in his mind as the memories engulfed him, the flames licking at the house before his eyes until a hand on his chest dragged him back into the light of the afternoon sun. The house that stood before him was not the one he had once known, not really; it had been repaired and repainted, disguised to hide the darkness of the demon that had destroyed his family, destroyed the childhood that no one should be denied.

'What is this place?' Kali asked, the warmth of her hand reaching through him, thawing the ice that had settled on his heart.

Her voice was soft, his eyes settling on her. He held her gaze, focused on the pale blue pools as her thumb gently rubbed his chest. 'I was a normal kid until I was four,' he said, 'with a mum, a dad, and a little brother who I was going to turn into a trouble maker as soon as he could walk, and then a–' he pursed his lips for a moment. 'And then a demon took that all away. He came into that house, our home, and tore everything apart.' He looked back to the unassuming building, still seeing flashes of flame licking at the wood that was only a figment of his imagination. 'God, it was good to kill that fucker, but it doesn't change anything; it doesn't bring my mum back, or my dad, and it doesn't save Sammy or me from being stuck in this life as hunters.'

He nearly startled when her hand moved from his chest, her arms wrapping around him as she tucked herself against his side. For weeks he had resisted temptation, resisted any physical contact but for a brief touch or a look so heated that it felt like a caress. Feeling the warmth of her body pressed against his, her head tucked against his neck, her breath falling softly against his skin, was as torturous to his body as it was comforting to his heart.

He didn't glance around when he heard Sam speak his name, voice rough with emotion.

'What is it, Sam?' Dean asked, hearing movement in the Impala.

'I'm going to find a motel. I'll tell you which one it is later.'

'How are you–'

'I'm taking the Impala,' he said, emphasising his words by starting the engine with a roar. 'I can't be here.'

Kali and Dean only had a moment to straighten from their leaning post before the car sped off, leaving the two of them to stare after Sam as he roared around a corner, obviously desperate to get away.

Kali looked up at Dean. 'Is he alright?' she asked. 'I mean, he can't be old enough to remember your mother's death, not if you were four and he was just a baby.'

He didn't shake his head or nod, he simply said, 'the demon took his girlfriend just as it took our mother,' he said. 'He doesn't need to remember our mum's death, not when he saw it happen to the woman he loved…loves.'

They stood there for a moment, Kali still tucked at his side, before he turned to face her. 'Your dad, John…I knew him,' she said, watching the questions drift through his eyes. She drew back slightly, pulling the sleeve of her leather jacket up to reveal her wrist, showing him the pale scars on her porcelain skin. 'When I fought the Ōkami that gave me these scars, I had only been training as a hunter for a year. I was out of my depth, but I thought that maybe taking on something so strong would make me stronger.' She glanced away for a moment before meeting his gaze again, strength gathering in her eyes. 'Dean, the only reason I walked away with only a bite was because your father was fighting by my side.'

For a moment he just stared, as if disbelieving. 'But he never–'

'I never told him my name,' she said. 'I mean, there would have been no reason to speak of my involvement, not even to you. He would have simply told you that the job was done, because after we fought together, we just went our separate ways, as hunters do.'

He reached for her hand as he said, 'we haven't.'

'No,' she said, a half-hearted smile fluttering over her lips, 'not yet.'

There was no way he could accept those words, even if his mind saw the truth in them. He had to mask the flash of pain in his eyes, distracting himself by asking, 'why did you choose this life? Why did you become a hunter when all I have ever wanted is to be normal?'

'I'm like you Dean. I didn't choose this life…it chose me when a very pissed off spirit mutilated my parents. It possessed them, had them hurt each other and then killed them, all while I was at a training session for gymnastics.' She gritted her teeth, the memory of stumbling upon their bodies still fresh in her mind, though years had passed. 'That spirit took its revenge on my parents because of a fucked up uncle that lived over fifty years ago.'

'How did you escape?'

'After the bodies of my parents had been taken, I was left standing in the house alone, and I saw the spirit. At first I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, I was so distraught, but after it tried to hurt me, I ran outside it didn't follow. I knew that I was safe as long as I stayed out of the house, so, having already taken a few of the more treasured family items to a friend's place, I–' She glanced away, but Dean drew her closer, strength in his touch and the encouragement in his eyes. 'I guessed that somehow, the spirit was tied to the building, so before the house could go to market again, I released the gas valve at the side of the house just enough that the sparks of the faulty security light above made the gas catch fire. It looked like an accident. By the time the fire department arrived, the structure was collapsing, and the house was no more.'

He didn't apologise, didn't offer any words designed to comfort because he knew that it wouldn't help; instead he embraced her, holding her so tight that she believed he would never let her go. A part of her hoped he wouldn't, one that grew stronger and stronger with every moment. She had been resisting his touch just as he had been resisting hers, but now, having shared the death of their old selves and their rebirth as hunters, they could not draw away. They stood on the nature strip and just absorbed the strength that the other offered through their touch, until finally, when the sky was bleeding to an orange hue, they hit the road again.

They drove through Lawrence, deciding on a place to eat and share a few lighter stories over a beer. Emotionally, they were both drained after the weeks of following the horrific trail of Death and of reliving the events that had torn their worlds in two. They shared tales of their hunts, and the thrilling adventure of travelling the states, enjoying the beauty that the country had to offer when they weren't chasing monsters.

As they drove to the motel, their stomachs full and the first true smiles they had shared for so long on their lips, Dean couldn't help his curiosity any longer. 'I still can't believe this is your car.'

'Why not?' she asked, glancing to him. 'I know it inside and out. I'm surprised there can be any denial in you.'

'All of the girls I've met over the years, they just don't get cars. At all,' he said, running his hand over the leather thoughtfully.

She smirked, hiding the jealousy that flashed through her at the thought of another touching him. 'I guess you need to pick your woman more carefully.'

'I already am.'

Kali didn't have to look to him; she could feel his gaze heating her skin, searing her right to her core. The sensation was delicious. That he could affect her so with only a gaze should have disturbed her, but she knew there was no fighting it, not any more. The more she denied her attraction, the stronger it grew, and she had a feeling he felt the same.

She threw a smile his way, meeting that heated gaze. 'If you trust me with your baby, you and I could give it a tune up before we hit the road again. It's about time I gave mine a tune up as well.'

Dean bit his tongue, but the thought of her working on the Impala, bent to reach under the hood with those tight jeans taught over her perfect ass, her shirt slipping to reveal that porcelain skin that he wanted so desperately to touch…it was maddening.

God he wanted to reach for her.

'No other woman has taken an interest in my car before, the one thing in my life that I have always been able to turn to for comfort. You have no idea how much I like that.'

She glanced to him, giving him a wicked smile even more devilish than the one she had thrown at him on Halloween. 'My grandfather taught me well,' she said, 'by the time I was sixteen, I could take this beauty apart, clean it and put it back together blindfolded. It was his passion, and he passed it on to me.'

He couldn't bite his tongue fast enough. 'A gymnast, a dancer, and a petrol head…' His eyes roamed her body, following the toned line of her denim clad thighs, her flat stomach and the perfect swell of her breasts as they strained against the fabric of her shirt.

She pulled up in the motel car park, getting a room key before she shifted her Cobra to sit beside the Impala. There was little light in the car park as they climbed out of her car, Dean getting her bag from the trunk before she could reach it.

'I can carry that, you know,' she said as they walked to her door.

'I know,' he said, holding the bag out of her reach until she finally gave in and opened the door. He followed her inside, placing the bag on the floor by the door before he stopped. For a moment he just watched her, choosing to lean against the door frame as she emptied her pockets and shed her jacket.

She bent, unzipping her boots to kick them off, both hitting the dresser with a thud before coming to rest on the ragged carpet, her socks following. She smiled at him as she undid the chains on her wrist to coil them on the table before she took the blade from her hair. Normally, she would just keep the hair band in place, a braid seeming to hold the starlight cascade of hair back constantly, but she unwound it. Dean watched, mesmerised as she worked her fingers through the braid to slowly separate the strands until the wavy length fell around her shoulders.

'Kali, you're…' He ran a hand over his mouth, his jaw, searching for words that would not come as she stepped towards him, her skin like true porcelain in the little light that filled the room, coming through the still open door. She stepped past him with a teasing trail of her fingers over his chest, closing the door to shut out the world. As she leant against the wood, slivers of light from the partially closed blinds and the frosted windows of the doors shining over her, he decided that she was almost ethereal in her beauty, with her pale eyes and perfect skin, the starlight waves of her curls catching the little moonlight that reached desperately through the darkness of the motel room. He opened his mouth to speak, to finish the sentence that he still couldn't find the right words to complete, but she placed a finger against his lips. Still, he asked, 'what are you–?'

She stretched on her toes to claim his lips, her fingers in his hair as his arms wrapped around her waist to hold on for dear life. She stole his breath, his heart skipping when her tongue flicked over his lip, coaxing him to deepen the kiss that was more a caress. And god, when she moaned, he nearly came undone. He was so close to melting further into her embrace, but a warning light flicked in his brain, some – annoying, stupid, poorly timed – part of him asking if this was a good idea, if he should stop the very thing he had wanted for so long from happening.

'Are you sure this is a good idea?' he asked, various parts of him, not all being in his brain, protesting his words, screaming, _what if she changes her mind?_

Her lips, so plump and perfect and made for kissing formed a smirk. 'I'm finishing what I started in Phoenix.'

He felt a stirring at the memory, knew that she saw the heat in his gaze even as he asked, 'but with everything that's happening…I don't want you doing something you might regret when we'll have to get up and play nice in the morning.'

Any smile she had faded. 'Regret?' she pulled back, just slightly. 'Why would I regret this?' She placed a hand over his chest, felt the quickened beat of his heart. 'I want you Dean. I have for so long, and I'm not going to restrain myself anymore. No matter what, there's always going to be shit happening in this world; whether it's demons, vampires or Death, we have few moments where we can stop and be with someone. Right now, we have one of those moments, and it's even more special because we don't have to hide behind fake names or pretend that our world is normal. We can just be–'

'Us.'

She trailed her finger from his cheek and down his neck until both hands lay upon his chest. When she smiled at him again, he knew she was right, that denying the passion that flamed inside them was like refusing to breathe. He claimed her lips, ravaged them like there would be no tomorrow, because for all he knew, tonight could be his last. No matter how much they tried to hide it, tonight they needed each other. Tonight, they would let the walls that surrounded their hearts collapse. Both would be vulnerable, more vulnerable than they had been with any other, and that was just what they needed.

He felt a smile – a true smile – take his lips as her hands slid from his chest to his shoulders, beneath his jacket to push it down his arms. The heavy leather fell to the floor, but she did not take her hands from his body. She trailed them down his arms, caressing his skin with those fine fingers that held more strength than he could believe before her hands came to his waist. She broke their kiss only to hold his gaze as her hands, so warm and gentle, inched beneath his shirt, a tantalising shiver rolling down his spine as her touch went from his hips to his back, the again to his hips, teasing him before she hooked his shirt. He raised his arms, letting her strip him of the dark fabric.

She smiled, tracing the tattoo over his chest, though she barely glanced at it. The strangest disappointment filled him when she stepped back, severing all contact to strip her t-shirt. He made to follow, desperate to caress her porcelain skin as she revealed it, desperate to taste the line of her collar bone and lower as he had imagined doing for so long, but he stilled again, watching her as she reached for her jeans. As she leaned against the simple dinner table, she flicked the top button, sliding the zip down slowly – oh so painfully slowly – before she pushed them down just a little, revealing her hip and a hint of lace beneath which a familiar tattoo peeked from.

'I'm concerned Dean,' she said with a pout, flicking her hair and sliding her jeans even lower, 'we've already got matching tattoos.'

He couldn't hold back any longer. In two quick strides he was upon her, hands caressing every inch of skin he could reach, savouring the feel of her toned stomach and silky thighs as he gripped the far too little stretch of revealed flesh to lift her, placing her on the table. He stripped her of the skin tight denim, tossing it across the room, uncaring of where it landed; his eyes were locked on her body, her gorgeous, supple skin and toned thighs that he quickly wedged himself between, hooking them around his hips until her ankles locked at his back. He claimed another kiss as he teased her skin, playing with the lace that he would soon rid her of.

She moaned against his lips, his hands trailing to her back to draw her body flush against him. She arched so that the lace of her bra tickled his chest, the heat of his skin warming her to her very soul. She wanted more of him, needed more, one goal in mind as she reached for his belt. She caressed his abs, savoured them, feeling his muscles clench before she unbuckled the belt and moved to undo the button. As she had with her jeans, she slid the zip down slow, adding a tantalizing hint of pressure. He bit his bottom lip, keeping a moan from escaping as she finally pushed the denim past his hips and let it tumble to the floor. He toed off his shoes and socks, kicking them and the denim aside.

He couldn't remember the last time he had savoured a woman, taken the time to strip her clothes and allow her to tease him as Kali was now. A union was always quick, filled with a hunger to sate the urges that he felt, but this was more than a mere fulfilling of carnal needs. Emotionally, they were starved of intimacy, of connection beyond the physical. Every touch only fed their shared passion, stoking their needs as he easily unclasped her bra. He did not hurry; he slid the straps down her shoulders, revealing her slowly to his ravenous gaze.

'Beautiful,' he whispered, running his thumbs gently over pert pink nipples before he cupped her breasts, the perfect handful. Her eyes were closed, her plump lips parted on a sigh as he bent his head to taste one of the rigid tips that begged for his attention, his tongue swirling before he sucked and nibbled, her soft moans like a drug that spurred him. He was addicted to her sighs, to the breaths of pleasure that spilled from her lips. He was desperate to hear more. So quickly, he wanted to hear her scream his name in abandon as he stroked her, tongued her, the desire becoming a physical being inside of him.

He eased her back gently, trailing kisses between those beautiful breasts, down that toned stomach to the lace. He traced her tattoo with his tongue, easing the lace past her hips and down her legs. By the throb down south, he knew that the woman he gazed upon was a walking aphrodisiac, her whole being designed to bring him to his knees with want. He dropped the lace, trailing his hands up the length of her silky thigh, feeling a shiver of anticipation roll through her as he parted her legs to reveal her bare flesh. Her skin was soft, so smooth as he gently parted the delicate folds to gaze upon the pink flesh, his finger instantly seeking her heat.

Another throb gripped him, and another, a torturous rhythm settling in as he stroked her, fingers quickly coated with a slickness he was desperate to be buried within. She moaned when he circled her clitoris, gentle at first, adding pressure until her hips rolled with invitation. Still he didn't rise to take her. No, he propped her legs over his shoulder, curling a finger within to stroke her hot spot as his tongue laved over her pink flesh, darting over her clitoris. He kept her on edge, inflicting the sweetest torture on her, pleasure rippling through him as her nails scraped his scalp and her hips moved with a mind of their own. When her moans were near constant, her toes curling on his back, he gave her the strokes that sent her tumbling over the edge, a cry wrenching from her lips. Her slick sheathe clenched around his fingers, her whole body seeming to arch from the table with the force of her orgasm. All the while, he continued to taste her, teasing her clitoris until the scream faded from the room, leaving only the sound of her breath to be heard.

He kissed his way up to her lips, his arms wrapping around her. He stole the little breath she had, her arms gripping his shoulders greedily before her nails raked down his back, making him arch with a shiver of pleasure that went straight down south. She rubbed against him, her hips arching to stroke him, making him realise he was still far too clothed. Kali had the same idea, apparently, her hands reaching for the waist of his underwear. Her fingers dipped beneath, her breath falling on his ear as she said, 'I've dreamt of sucking you.'

He wasn't used to such bold statements; the woman he usually took to bed surrendered control to him. Not Kali though; she pushed him back, his legs hitting the bed. He sat, watching as she hopped from the table, stalking him with a sway of her hips that held his gaze until she trailed her hands up his thigh and higher, skimming just shy of the erection that strained against the thin fabric that she quickly hooked her fingers beneath. He stripped him as he had stripped her, eyes falling to his length as it stood proud before her. She smiled, easing to her knees before his stunned eyes. She stroked him with her delicate hand, the pale blue of her eyes holding his gaze captive, even as she bent her head to flick her tongue over the oh so sensitive crown.

His eyes nearly rolled when she did it again, following the same trail that swirled around the head of his cock, her tongue darting over the slit. Her starlight hair fell around her, brushing his thighs, and a moan escaped him, harsh as it tore from his throat when she took him into her mouth. She slid down his length, her hand still wrapped around him, forming a sheath as her rhythm moved up and down, up and down, his hips bucking when her other hand cupped his heavy sack. His eyebrows nearly shot off his forehead in surprise when her hands disappeared altogether, her tongue trailing from base to tip and down, licking until he could take no more. Still seated on the edge of the bed, he gripped her arms, pulling her to her feet. He gripped her thighs as she straddled him, her slick, hot sex rubbing against his throbbing length. Careful not to catch her hair, he cupped her ass, grinding her against his shaft, her clitoris sensitized from his earlier attention, the tight bud of nerves throbbing as much as his cock.

'God, I have dreamed of this,' he said, kissing her neck before he took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking until the pink darkened and a breathless gasp escaped her lips. 'Tell me you want me.'

Her head fell back, her hair cascading behind her as she cradled his head against her chest while he continued to nibble on the sensitive tips. 'I want you, Dean,' she said, his name ending in a moan as he ground against her again, so very close to taking her, the head of his shaft brushing her entrance.

'Tell me you need me,' he said, fingers digging into her flesh. He slowed his rhythm, pulling his lips from her breasts to meet her gaze. He stared straight into the pale blue pools, her lips at perfect height for him to claim, but he stayed a breath away, watching the heat swirl in her gaze, so many other emotions lying there with her desire.

Her fingers trailed gently down his neck, over his shoulders, the touch holding far deeper meaning than passion, one that should have frightened him but instead sent a thrill to his very soul. She reached up to cup his face in her hands, the action so gentle that he could do nothing but stare into that pale gaze and feel the emotions that poured through him as she said, 'I need to feel you inside me.'

He reached between their bodies, gripping his throbbing shaft. The feel of her slick heat on the head was nearly his undoing, the urge to plunge into her tight depths screaming through him. His eyes fluttered closed as he slipped inside, his hands still cupping her ass as her sex enveloped him. He heard a moan, felt her grip on his shoulders tighten as he merely guided her, her strong thighs easily lifting her lithe body. His hips lifted to meet her, their ragged breath filling the motel room, Kali's gasps of pleasure falling against his skin as she wrapped her arms tight around his neck, her lips brushing his ears.

Her pace was slow, but perfect, fanning the heat inside him. She stroked his pleasure to a fever pitch once more. It was like she could sense when he drew close to his climax; moments before he reached the point of no return, she would slow, riding him easy until the fire within settled before bringing him to the edge again. It was maddening and brilliant, a wondrous torture that he never wanted to end, not before she could join him.

He bit down on her shoulder, stifling a groan when she clenched around him, nearing her climax. He ran his fingers through her hair, the hands like silk as he gently brought the starlight strands over her shoulder before his hands roamed to her thighs. He held her body to him, stopping her thrusts as he stood; when they reached the table, he was still inside her, now in control of the pace. He held her tight, keeping her in place as he drew back and thrust hard, finding the sweet spot inside that had her gasping with pleasure. He was about to grit his teeth but instead claimed her lips, kissing her with all the love he had. When he pulled back, her name spilled from him like a prayer as she tightened around him, her slick sex seeming to grip his length, over and over as her orgasm hit. She gasped with the first wave, moaned his name with the second and at its crescendo screamed it.

Unable to hold back any longer, his hips took control, faster, faster as she reached her peak until the sweet pressure inside that was nearly too much to bear released, a harsh cry wrenching from his throat. He spilled inside her, thrusting until the last drop had been expelled. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, finally reaching her lips. With ragged, sated breath they kissed, languid as they tasted each other. He could feel her smile, knew that he wore the same expression as they caressed each other, neither willing to relinquish contact. Dean refused to, in fact; when he had regained enough of his equilibrium to move, he wrapped her legs tight around his waist and lifted her, carrying her to the bed. He pushed the covers aside, laying her down so that he could climb in beside her.

On his side, he stared into her gaze as she entwined her legs with his, hooking a knee over his hip to draw herself closer. Her arm lay over his hip, her fingers tracing a line up and down his back as he tucked an arm beneath her head. Her smile brightened even further when he wrapped his arm around her, but there was a hint of anxiousness within the gaze.

'How can this feel so right Dean?' she asked, voice but a whisper as her words fell from her lips. 'We're hunters. Sex is sex, it can't feel like–'

'Making love,' he finished, reaching to brush lengthy strands from her face. 'But that's exactly what it was, and I wouldn't change that even if it meant dying tomorrow.'

'For all we know, that's exactly what might happen.'

He stroked her cheek. 'Then at least I'd die happy.'

She worried her lip, glancing away. 'Don't talk like that.'

'Kali, look at me,' he said, forcing those pale blue pools to him. He had to make her understand, had to make her listen. 'The scar on my shoulder, the one that looks like a hand, I know you're wondering what it is. I felt you trace it.'

'I don't see what that has to–'

'It's from an angel,' he continued, 'one that reached down and pulled me from the depths of hell. I made a deal with a cross-road demon, and after a year it collected. I spent so many decades down there. I did things that left me believing I was soulless, but with you…God, with you I'm alive again. With you I can feel, even when everything is falling to shit I'm…I'm happy when you smile, when I hear your laugh…I never thought I'd feel that again.' He leant his forehead against hers, so desperate for her to understand. 'You can't say that this isn't right, that what I feel isn't real when I know in my…in my _soul_ that it is.'

'Goddamn it, Dean, sometimes I hate it when you're right,' she said, claiming his lips, their kiss still languid, passionate, fulfilling. She pulled back, a smirk lighting her lips as she added, 'but not this time.'

They would savour the night, savour each tick of the clock on the mantle as dawn neared. While Death ran his macabre show around the states, there was no way to know when they would next feel the other's touch, taste the other's lips and know the other's passion. With that in mind, they held each other through the darkness, clinging to what little hope they had that this night would not be their last embrace.

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><p><em>Next update: Saturday the 21st of May.<em>


	7. Taken  Part One

SEVEN

TAKEN – PART ONE

Sam was quick to wake, pushing the covers back. The air in the room was cool against his bare chest but that was not why he shivered. When he glanced to the other double bed, it was empty. The sheets, still perfectly tucked in, had not been moved an inch, meaning Dean had never come to the room.

No wonder he'd slept so well.

He reached for the bedside table, grabbing his mobile and hitting speed dial one. _One…two…three…four…_he rubbed the back of his neck as his hair stood on end. _Five…six…seven…eight._ He didn't bother leaving message when he was prompted by Dean's voice. He ended the call and pressed redial, figuring his brother may not have heard his phone the first time, but as the message played again and the beep sounded, he began to worry. It wasn't like Dean to miss a call, let alone two.

Without showering, he pulled his jeans and a plain t-shirt on, not bothering with a jacket as he headed out into the morning sun, going straight to the reception where he found an older woman at the desk, obviously bored as she flicked through a magazine with a cigarette between her fingers. He stared at the precariously hanging ash that clung to the end of the cigarette, wondering how much longer it could defy gravity as he leant against the counter.

'Excuse me.'

The woman looked up. As soon as her eyes fell on his body, her snarl was wiped from her face. Sam rolled his eyes while she leisurely trailed her gaze up his towering body. He tried not to dwell on the knowledge of where her eyes lingered, instead waiting patiently until she asked, 'what can I do for you, sugar?'

He pulled a smile over his lips, trying to ignore her leer. 'Just wondering which room my friend is in,' he said, 'his name is James Hetfield.'

She glanced at the sheet beside her, scanning the names for a second before saying, 'no one under the name of Hetfield here.' She smiled, gaze taking another leisurely wander up and down. 'Is there anything else I can do for you? _Anything_ at all?'

'Ah, yeah, he might have come in with a woman,' he said, stalling for a moment before he could remember Kali's alias, 'Juliette Lewis.'

The woman glanced away again, finally tapping the ash of her cigarette into an ash tray as she scanned the names. 'There's a Lewis here. Checked in last night.' She smiled at Sam again, and the thoughts that swirled in her gaze made his stomach churn as she said, 'room 12.'

He offered a quick thank you before turning on his heel and heading for that room, a couple doors down from the one he had gotten for himself and Dean. If anyone might know where Dean was, it would be Kali, he hoped. He knocked once, but there was no answer. He knocked again, glancing over his shoulder to Kali's car, the white of the Cobra's laser stripe seeming to flash in the sunlight. With a frown, he cast a quick glance around the motel's car park, checking that no one was watching before he reached into the pocket of his jeans and knelt.

It took him little time to pick the lock, standing before he pushed the door open, looked inside. He took one fleeting look around the room, before he turned tail and ran out with a gasp, slamming the door behind him. Sam scrubbed at his eyes, wishing he could bleach the image of his brother – _sans_ clothes – being evicted from the bathroom with the flick of a towel from his mind, but it had been burned deep.

'Sammy, was that you?' called a voice through the door.

Sam didn't move in time; the wood was wrenched away from his back and he fell with a solid thud to his ass, a grimace on his face as he rolled to the side. Again, he regretted having eyes as he looked up to see a still naked Dean, who was only just wrapping a towel around his waist.

'Dude!' he cried, an arm over his eyes even as he pulled himself to his feet. 'Put it away! No one wants to see that.'

'I wasn't complaining.'

Sam didn't open his eyes, just in case Kali had the same mentality as Dean on nudity. 'I don't want to know,' he said, feeling his way out of the door. 'Dean, put some pants on and come outside. I need a word.'

* * *

><p>Dean was still laughing, even as he went to Kali, wrapping his arms around her waist. He kissed her neck, the tempting stretch of skin revealed when she swept the wet length over her shoulder to continue braiding it. He was rewarded with a shiver as he pushed the strap of her bra aside to gently nibble on the mark he had left on her skin.<p>

'I think you need to go talk to your brother,' she said, her sentence ending on a gasp as his fingers snuck beneath the lace of her panties, caressing the smooth flesh before his fingers slipped between her delicate folds to tease the tight bud of nerves that sent her knees weak.

'I don't know how you could stand being waxed in such a–' a gasp as he continued to caress her '–sensitive area, but I must say I rather enjoy it.'

Her head fell back on his shoulder, her braiding forgotten as she reached back to grip his thigh, her other hand entwining in his hair. 'When you've been shot, bitten, scratched, stabbed and just generally beaten as much as I have, you get pretty good at handling pain.' It was his turn to gasp as her hips did a wicked twist against him, a smirk appearing on her lips that matched the one he had worn only moments ago. 'Even in sensitive areas.'

'Kali,' he said in warning, the hand that wasn't occupied moving to wrap around her waist, pressing her tight against his chest, 'if we don't stop now, I will pin you to a wall, and by the time we're finished, we'll need another shower.'

'Then you had better put some pants on before you get too carried away,' she said, releasing her hold on him. She touched his arm, coaxing his hand from her panties even though she wanted nothing more than for him to continue his wicked caress. She pulled from his arms, trying to keep herself from pinning _him_ to a wall as she said, 'pants. Now.' Her gaze wandered to his towel, and she reached to continue braiding her hair, knowing that if she didn't occupy her hands, she'd strip the fluffy white fabric straight from his hips.

Fire burned in his gaze, and he made to step forward, but she put her hand up. 'Pants,' she said, pointing to the jeans that he'd kicked aside last night just before he had– 'On. Now.'

He gritted his teeth, turning from her before he went to his bag, rummaging around in it for a clean pair of underwear before he dropped the towel and dressed. He was just pulling a t-shirt over his head when he allowed himself a glance at her; she was still braiding her hair, standing in nothing but her bra and panties, the black lace taunting him.

He went for the door, wrenching it open and throwing himself through it before he ravaged her. Sam was waiting near by, leaning on the Impala, still rubbing his eyes at the images that had been burned into them, never to be erased. Dean smiled as he sat beside his brother. 'Good morning.'

'Can't say I can agree,' Sam said, finally meeting Dean's gaze. 'Seriously, what the hell are you doing?'

'What do you mean?' Dean asked, a smile quirking his lips.

'No, really, what are you doing? Why were you naked in Kali's room, because I know you're not stupid enough to get involved with her?'

The smile disappeared. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Remember that little conversation we said about you using your upstairs brain? Well, obviously you ignored it,' Sam said, standing up, towering over Dean. 'Really, could you be any more of an idiot?'

Even though he was inches shorter when he straightened, the glare in Dean's gaze could have sent even the bravest of men running with their tails tucked between their legs. 'What do you want to say to me Sam?' he asked, standing so close to his brother that the tension between them was almost a physical being. 'Why don't you just spit it out, rather than dancing around it?'

Sam narrowed his gaze. 'Keep it in your pants, Dean. She's trouble and you know it. You can't let her distract you, not with all the shit that's going down,' he said, voice low, nearly vicious. 'If you keep letting her fuck with your head – sorry, _heads_ – then you're just helping Death kill as many people as he can.'

Dean's fingers curled into fists, his hands at his sides one moment, and then one was flying towards Sam in the next. A solid row of knuckles hit home, Sam's head jerking to the side as Dean's fist connected with his jaw. Sam stumbled, and for a moment he saw stars. That unfortunately familiar taste of blood rolled down his tongue as he regained his balance, a hand on his jaw as he looked at Dean.

'Whether you do or not, I trust her,' Dean said, his blue gaze piercing as it fell on Sam. 'Dad trusted her, so you should too.'

Sam's jaw slackened slightly at the words, spurring Dean on. 'That's right,' he continued, 'Dad hunted with her once. They both went after an Ōkami while you were off having a grand old time studying. They fought together, and he saved her. She's not trouble; you just want her to be so that you don't have to face up to the fact that you're jealous over seeing me happy after you lost Jess.'

Neither looked away, their gazes set as their chests heaved with the laboured breaths of anger. They didn't move, both absorbing the words that still seemed to echo in the parking lot of the motel. For so long, they stood locked in place before, finally, Sam's hand dropped from his jaw. He glanced down, unable to hold the stare any longer, not with the guilt that crashed down on his shoulders. Even Dean's set brow relaxed, his eyes softening, both realising that they were tearing each other apart inside.

'Sammy,' Dean started, but his younger brother held a hand up.

'It's fine,' he said, his voice holding none of the viciousness of before, 'you're right, and…and I've got no place to be jealous of you, not when I had Jess while you were hunting with dad, but I…I can't help it.'

Dean dropped his head. 'Sammy, I'm so sorry,' he said, 'but I just…I know how hard it's been lately, but I can't let her go.'

'I just don't understand why,' Sam said, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. 'How is she different from all the other girls?'

His lip quirked as he met Sam's gaze again, the pale blue softer this time. 'How was Jess different from all the other girls?'

Sam opened his mouth, closed it, before finally he said, 'she just was. Even from the first time I met her, I knew that she was, and it wasn't long before I was in too deep to turn back.' A smile found its way onto his lips. 'Not that I ever wanted to.'

'And neither do I,' Dean said, his voice dropping low, 'no matter what, neither do I. She's so strong, so fierce, but when she touches me…' he closed his eyes, feeling her hands on his back, feeling her fingers caress his shoulder though she were still inside the motel room. 'She's so much better than I am, and though I know that I don't deserve her, I can't even think about letting her go. I mean, to think that I could have met her all those years ago, when she fought the Ōkami with dad…' He met Dean's gaze. 'If I had, I would have run away from this life just like you did if it meant being with her, and I never would have looked back.'

For a moment they just stared at each other again, but there was no ice in their gazes, only understanding. Dean was the first to look away, reaching into the pocket of his jeans to retrieve his ringing phone. He answered, standing beside Sam, tilting the receiver so that both could hear the voice on the other end of the line.

'What's up, Bobby?' Dean asked, casting a quick glance to Sam.

'Oh, you know, just out for a stroll,' he said before adding, 'you idjit, why do you think I'm calling you? There are some serious thunderclouds about to roll over Kansas, about an hour away and moving way too fast to be a regular storm.'

'What a coincidence,' Dean said, this time sharing a glance with Sam, 'we just happened to make it to Kansas yesterday.'

'You mean you're ahead of him?'

'Actually, I think he must have gone through Arkansas and Oklahoma. There haven't been any unusual deaths reported in Kansas.'

'Yet.'

Dean had hoped to leave that word out, but Bobby had never been one to cloud the truth with false hope. 'We'll be ready for him.'

'As ready as we can be,' Sam added.

They said their goodbyes, knowing this conversation would likely be their last. After all, it wasn't like many had chased Death and lived to hunt another day. Well, not that many would ever chase Death…

Dean tucked the phone back in his pocket, reaching up to rub a hand over his face and hair before he met his brother's gaze. A tense moment passed before Dean said, 'We better tell Kali.'

'I'll go get our stuff,' Sam said, 'you fill her in. After what I just said, I–'

He shook his head, turning back to his room, leaving Dean standing in the car park with a frown on his lips. To think that he had been happy this morning, that he'd actually smiled when he had woken up with Kali tucked against his chest. Her back had been to him, but her fingers had been woven with his, tucking his arm more securely around that tiny little waist. With slivers of sun shining through the blinds, her porcelain skin had seemed to glow, a hint of a flush still dusting her cheeks, a reminder of the glorious hours they had shared.

He grasped that memory with all his might, holding onto it for dear life. It gave him strength, even as the knowledge that they would never share in the other's love – that's right, he thought love – again, tore his heart in two.

He knocked and Kali opened the door, her smile instantly disappearing when she saw the look in his eyes. She reached out, caressing his cheeks with her finger tips before she cupped his face in her hands. 'It's time for us to go, isn't it?'

He reached for her hands, cradling them against his skin. Her touch was tender, and as she wrapped her arms around his neck and his arms slid around her waist, he lifted her to her toes. He never wanted to let go, not when he so desperately wanted the moment to last, forever and a day and then some.

'I don't ever want to let you go,' he said as he gently placed her on her feet. It was his turn to cup her face in his hands – her delicate cheek bones, her beautiful skin – to bring that pale gaze to his.

'I know,' she said, taking his hands in hers, 'but you'll have to. Let's just pray that we have another chance, even if it is useless.'

She packed up the few things she had, and they headed out to their cars. Sam was already waiting in the Impala, a tortured look on his face as he stared through the window at nothing. She was about to pull away from him when he tightened his grip on her hand, pulling her back to claim her lips. He willed his emotions through that kiss, one filled with more passion than any they had previously shared; when they broke apart, both were breathless.

It took all his strength to pull away from her and to walk to his car, but somehow he managed to put one foot in front of the other and make his way to the driver's side door. The hinges squeaked as he flung it open and climbed in beside Sam. They glanced to each other in a look filled with so many silent words, before Dean started the engine. He and Kali were about to reverse out when a car cut them off, parking behind them.

Dean cursed, glancing to see that Kali was doing the same, before he climbed back out of his beloved car, so glad he had stopped before he backed into the shining vehicle. He was about to tell the driver to open his eyes when the words were stolen from his lips, his throat drying as the air was dragged from his lungs. He dropped to his knees, looking up as two figures walked towards him. As hands gripped his arms and he was pulled roughly to his feet, he saw that Kali and Sam were still in their cars, both fighting for breath as he was. Despite the ache in his lungs as he desperately tried to breathe, he struggled, kicking the car that they tried to force him into. He managed to free an arm and elbow one of his kidnappers, but they barely flinched and pushed Dean's head down and through the open door.

He tried to kick at the hands that forced him into the car, but his vision was wavering, the lack of oxygen taking its toll. He managed one good kick at the stomach of one of the kidnappers before the door closed. A voice sounded in the front seat, drawing his last few seconds of awareness to the rear-view mirror where a wrinkled face smiled back.

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><p><em>Next update: Saturday the 28th of May.<em>


	8. Taken Part Two

EIGHT

TAKEN – PART TWO

The rush of air that filled his lungs woke him. He gulped it down, relieved to feel the weight of it in his body, but that relief was short lived. As quick as it had appeared, it was drawn straight back out. With each gasp, he felt as though he were on the verge of taking a breath that would never quite come; he was allowed just enough air to survive, to stay conscious as his face was pressed against the window of the Cadillac to watch as men, women, even children had that vital air taken. They dropped to the pavement before eyes that filled with tears, his cheeks burning with the salty streaks as his lungs begged for more than the little oxygen they were allowed.

Dean didn't know how he was doing it, how the horseman was able to manipulate him so, but then why wouldn't Death be able to dictate the way in which someone died? This state of limbo he was in, with the pale man in the front seat holding his life by the thinnest thread, was only temporary. These moments, watching people fall as the pale horse rode past, would be some of his last. Soon, he would be returned to Hell, and there would be no get-out-of-jail-free pass. Why would an angel reach into the fiery depths twice for his sorry ass?

Soon, they were in the outskirts of Lawrence, the streets they drove and the houses that lined them appearing to form the border of his home town. Every time the Cadillac seemed to slow, he wanted to urge them forward, away from the homes of people, of families who were going about their daily lives, unaware that darkness haunted them, of the creatures that lurked, skulked or even strolled through the shadows.

He wanted to beg that the horseman keep moving, but the Cadillac glided to the curb in front of a simple house, the white paint weathered but maintained with obvious love and care. This was more than a house. It was someone's home, and by the sedan and the SUV parked in the driveway, a small family was inside, kids included. There were two bikes on the front line and a football, the picture of a normal day in the life of a family. Inside, they would be going about their weekend, enjoying their time together.

As he was pulled roughly from the car, the demon possessed men jostling him, all he could do was kick futilely at air. He wanted so desperately for the toe or heel of his boot to hit flesh – preferably somewhere sensitive – so that he could drop one of the bastards, but with his hands now bound tightly at the wrist and his lungs burning more and more with every second, he didn't have the leverage or strength. Every kick was weaker as he became more breathless, the little air he was allowed doing nothing to help his straining lungs.

'Do stop your thrashing, dear boy,' the horseman said without even a glance over his shoulder, 'it's rather tiresome to watch.'

Dean sneered, cursing mentally, knowing that talking would only rob him of the little oxygen that remained in his body. He quit his kicking too, opting instead to plant his heels in the gravel of the path in front of him, but the demons simply kicked his feet from under him, dragging him the last few feet up to the front door. Despite his earlier decision to conserve his oxygen, he tried to shout a warning as Death raised his fisted hand and rapped twice, but no sound came out. The air was wrenched from his lungs as if Death knew his intentions, a wheeze all that escaped as footsteps sounded on the other side of the door. He heard the door knob turn and, for the first time in so long, prayed, begged, because he knew there was no hope.

Still, despite his desperate pleas, a woman opened the door. He saw the reflection in her gaze, knew that the demons weren't bothering to hide the darkness that coated their eyes. Before she could scream, she was placed in the same state as Dean, searching for air that would not come. As she dropped to her knees, clutching at her chest, he watched as the shadows of terror filled her eyes, the hazelnut seeming to lose its colour as he lost any last threads of hope that this family might survive, that he himself would make it through another hour.

And despite that, it was not death he feared. He had faced it so many times before, had "lived it" though the thought of that sounded ridiculous even to his mind, but he had never been more terrified. He wanted only one thing; one more kiss from Kali, his crimson angel. Without it, he knew that his death, no matter how quick or slow, would destroy him, because soon, when he was returned to the depths of Hell, he would not be able to say no to the demons.

One of the demons released him to grab the woman, and a solid punch to his ribs stopped the plans that started to form in his mind, the pain nearly blinding as cracks sounded. Every breath was worse than the last, the pain intensified as his whole body burned with the agony that filtered through him at what he knew were broken ribs.

As he and the woman – the mother, a part of his mind that hadn't been crippled by pain, guessed – were dragged into the house and out of sight, he heard the inevitable sound of children playing. Somewhere in the house, there was laughter and Dean knew that the horseman had heard it too when a sly smile curled his lips. He called out to them, and the laughter stopped. The sounds of play were abandoned as foot steps came running. Death called out again. 'Children, your mother needs you.'

Dean tried to shout again, to ward the little pitter-patter of feet off, but another blinding wave of pain shot from his ribs as the demon all but kicked him across the room. He hit a wall hard, his head cracking the plaster to leave a dent. He gasped as plaster dust gently rained down, so at odds with the situation. His wrists ached, his lungs and ribs burned and now his head throbbed, but when the mother was thrown too he shuffled as best he could, using his body to save her from slamming into the wall as he had. When she looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes, he knew he needed to distract her, so he asked her name. She mouthed Cassandra, and with the little oxygen in his lungs, he shushed her, telling her to just keep quiet and conserve her breath and that it would all be over soon, even though he knew different. He noticed rings on her left hand and asked where her husband was. She was just beginning to mouth "supermarket" when the demons entered the room.

Somehow Cassandra managed a scream when she caught sight of the demons, two little boys flailing in their iron grasps. Tears streaked their young faces, dripping from their chins as they called out to their mother. Their breath had not being taken, their screams loud and clear; each sniffle shredded Dean's heart.

_Of course, _he thought. If it was tearing him apart, it would be killing the mother.

'Sick bastard,' he rasped. Black eyes shot towards him, glaring with enough anger that he thought the look might sear him, but the horseman simply smiled.

'Maybe a little,' he said, daintily folding his pale hands in his lap as he sat on the couch. His fingers looked so fragile, especially with the massive ring that adorned one. In fact, the entirety of him looked frail, his skin nearly translucent, his body thin and gangly within the tailored suit, but looking into those cold eyes…Dean felt a shiver creep up his spine at the darkness within them.

'Why are you here?' Dean asked, though it came out as little more than a gasp.

Death glanced to his two companions. 'Why, loyalty of course. These wonderful people saw fit to free me from my confinement.'

_Bullshit,_ Dean thought as he tried not to choke at the idea of demons as people, let alone wonderful people. He narrowed his gaze. 'Let this family go. Your fight is with me. After all, I'm the one who's been hunting your crusty old ass.'

'Ah, so brave even in the face of Death,' the monster himself said, that sickening, taunting smile never leaving his lips. 'It's no surprise really, considering that this won't be your first trip down south, will it, Dean Winchester?'

Said so pleasantly, but Dean heard the meaning beneath it, felt it like a sickness that churned in his gut. He knew he'd be lucky if he had another hour left to live.

* * *

><p>Kali dragged herself up by the steering wheel, her vision returning slowly. She'd blacked out, and as she glanced to the Impala, she knew that Sam had too; she couldn't see his massive form sitting up inside the car. Her heart wrenched in her chest as events replayed in her mind, some foolish part of her hoping that he had collapsed on the concrete, but as she got out of the car and ran around to the other side, she knew that what she had witnessed had not been in her imagination.<p>

Dean had been taken by Death.

She pulled the door of the Impala open, leaning in to shake Sam by his shoulders. She tapped his cheeks, but he still did not rouse from unconsciousness. She glanced frantically around the inside of the Impala, eyes locking onto a water bottle, half of the contents remaining in the plastic container. Yes, Dean would be pissed to know that she'd spilled water – on purpose – in his baby, but all she cared about was waking Sam so they could start their hunt for the horseman.

God help the bastard if Dean was dead, because she wouldn't be strolling through the fiery gates unless she took him with her.

She pulled the cap off, tossing it behind her and out of the car before she emptied the water on Sam's face. For a moment, nothing happened, the water simply flowing over him, but finally he spluttered. He reached up, wiping at his eyes, coughing as some of the water found its way into his nose.

She didn't bother with pretence. 'Dean was taken,' she said, hands under his massive shoulders to urge him to sit up.

His eyes were wide when he stared at her. 'What?'

'The horseman, he's taken Dean.' She reached over him, opening the passenger side door to the Impala before she pushed Sam through it, surprising him with her strength. 'Get anything you need out of the boot and then get in my car. We're going to find him.'

'How?' Sam asked as he went to the boot, somehow keeping his gaze on her. 'We couldn't keep up with him before, so how do you think we'll be able to catch him now?'

'Because he didn't take Dean just for the fun of it; he's using him as bait, meaning that he wanted us to follow him,' she said, glancing around the car park. 'After all, he's left us a trail.'

Sam turned. He couldn't even curse at the sight before his eyes, because all ability to form words left him. There were sirens sounding everywhere, and as he looked out of the motel car park and onto the street, he saw why. There were people huddled all around, crying at the death that surrounded them. He ran to the mouth of the motel parking lot, staring down the street to see that every fifty feet, the scene was repeating itself. She hadn't been kidding when she'd said that he'd left a trail, and Sam couldn't help wishing that he'd chosen breadcrumbs rather than innocent lives.

She pulled up beside him in her Cobra. 'I've grabbed your stuff, now get in. We can't waste any more time gawking. We can be sad later.'

Sam looked to her, wanting to hate her callousness, but when he saw the fear in her eyes, he couldn't. She was just trying to be strong, trying to hold herself together even though Dean was in danger. As he climbed into the passenger seat, he couldn't help but remember his brother's earlier words. Though he hadn't said it straight out, Sam knew that Dean loved this woman – this tiny, powerful, fierce woman – with all his heart, and as Sam glanced to her, he realised that she felt the same.

She pulled out, doing her best to ease her Cobra quickly through the quick traffic. It was slow going; police lines were put up in most places, with what appeared to be all of the emergency vehicles of Lawrence lining the streets that they travelled.

'How are we going to kill Death?' Sam asked, knowing it needed to be voiced.

'Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?' Kali asked, swerving slightly to avoid hitting a paramedic.

'We can't just go after him without knowing a weakness at least,' he said, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He pressed his second speed dial, hearing only two rings before Bobby's gruff voice answered.

'You should be preparing.'

'Bobby, the horseman is already here, and he's taken Sam. He's leaving us a fucking macabre breadcrumb trail for Christ sake, so if you know of any way to hurt this bastard then we need to hear it now, because we're going after him.'

'You idjit, you'll get yourself killed.'

Kali snatched the phone from Sam. 'As long as we save Dean and stop the horseman, it doesn't matter.'

Silence met her on the other end of the line, before Bobby finally said, 'you must be Kali.'

'The boys told you about me then.'

'Dean can't shut up about you whenever we talk,' he said, and Kali felt her chest ache at the knowledge. 'I think you've got him enthralled.'

'Well, not like he doesn't have his own charms,' she said, 'now please, Bobby. I know Dean and Sam always turn to you when they find that they're out of their depth, so do you know _anything_? Anything at all? I'm pretty willing to run on wild speculation and dreams if it means keeping Dean alive.'

'I've read about a few things, but the one that pops up the most is about a ring that he should be wearing,' Bobby said, and Kali was all ears, seeming to drive instinctually as she focused on the phone, 'apparently all of the horsemen wear one, and if it gets taken from them, they lose their power. It sounds like a load of crap to me to be honest, but…it's all I've got.'

A sardonic smile found its way onto Kali's lips. 'It's better than nothing.'

She passed the phone back to Sam, focusing on the road ahead, the new knowledge churning in her mind. It was stupid to cling to hope, but she was going to do it anyway. Dean couldn't be dead, not when things were only just starting to look up, when she was just starting believe that there could be more in her life than hunting, that she could truly love someone even though she had refused to open her heart to another since the death of her parents.

Until Dean.

Sam hung up and looked at her, gaze burning. 'What now?'

'We find Death and save Dean.'

'You make it sound so easy.'

She glanced to him. 'Oh, I know we won't make it out of this alive, but I'm going to fight this bastard to the end,' she said, and he saw fire dance in the pale blue, 'the question is, will you?'

There was no other answer. 'Always.'

* * *

><p><em>Next update: Saturday the 4th of June.<em>


	9. To the Death

NINE

TO THE DEATH

She felt numb, her knuckles white on the steering wheel as she clenched it tight while she clung to the shards of sanity that remained within. Her eyes were surprisingly dry, the tears she wanted to shed locked away in a tight ball of fear that was slowly churning in her stomach, just waiting to be released, but only once she'd taken her first steps in hell with Death cursing by her side. She would not unleash the water works, not when she needed to be cold, to use the pain and the anguish inside of her to be the hunter that had slaughtered so many monsters, the pain and anguish that would slaughter the pale horseman.

She pulled up a few blocks from where they had passed the shining white Cadillac, as far as she was willing to get away from the house. It had taken all of her strength to keep driving, past where the trail ended, past where the monster held Dean and god knows how many innocents, likely children by the bikes and the football that had been laid to rest on the front lawn. Even Sam had seemed to resist the urge to ask that Kali pull to the curb and sprint in, but both knew that they needed to prepare for themselves.

She stepped out of the car, and neither she nor Sam spoke a word as they opened the trunk, reaching in. Whether people were watching, they didn't care; not about the devils trap on the roof of the trunk or the lines upon lines of pointy, explosive and generally dangerous weapons within. Kali tied a blade into her hair and secured the chains on her wrist, testing that they were all secure as she whipped them around. She caught her braid, satisfied, ready to strap her Nodachi to her back when Sam put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to him, concerned by the strange expression on his face until he said, 'you're scary, but I am so glad that you're here right now.'

She saw the fear that he tried to hide behind a half-hearted smile, saw the same tears in his eyes that she felt in hers and reached out to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her head on his chest as she just held him.

'We'll get him back, Sam,' she said, feeling how tight he squeezed her, 'even if it's only so that we can have one last fight together.'

They pulled apart, and Kali reached up, placing a hand on his chest, their shared fear becoming a shared strength, a shared love. Kali for the one man who had truly touched her heart and Sam for his big brother who had always been there for him, looked out for him, even when he had run away to become a lawyer.

Both turned back to the trunk, Sam strapping more blades to his body – including two scythes in sheathes strapped to his back – before he added holy water and other nasties that he was sure the demons would love to be introduced to. Kali already had her blade in her hair and one strapped to her calf, the other essentials ready and waiting on her person. The one thing she needed was her sword, all four feet of the blade that she slid into the sheathe that was ready and waiting on her back. She looked to Sam, and with a nod they reached to close the trunk. Kali stood for a moment, trailing her fingers over the perfect paint, polished to perfection. Her Cobra had been her passion just as ballet and gymnastics had. Her grandfather had shown her how to take care of every inch of the beauty inside and out, letting her believe it was only to give her a valuable skill. Just before he had died though, he had taken her hand and told her that his baby was to be hers, that his passion would live on through her love and care.

It wasn't until after he had died, when she was taking care of it as promised, that she had noticed the carefully crafted metal words on the back, spelling her name. She would miss her Cobra, the one thing that had kept her sane in such a dark, frightening world.

Until Dean.

Kali and Sam walked with determined steps, the clomp of their boots on the sidewalk screaming of a confidence they should not have allowed themselves to feel, but with nothing to lose they let that confidence echo. As they approached the simple white home, they became careful of their steps though, coming at the house from the back. Kali reached the fence first, gripping the top to catapult herself over before she dropped low, crouching behind a shrub on the other side. She glanced up when Sam didn't follow, worried that with his broad build he would struggle with the high fence, but he catapulted himself over just as she had, landing only slightly less gracefully beside her.

He pulled his scythes out, glancing to her as she quirked an eyebrow at him before she looked at the house, seeing that the blinds were drawn, making it impossible to see inside, as well as impossible to see out. There had only been two demons at the motel, but they had no way to know if there were more inside with Death. For all they knew, there was a swarm of the bastards inside, just waiting to tear them apart.

And still they would go in.

They used the little advantage they had, keeping low as they approached a window. Not all of the curtains could be perfectly closed, could they? They could hope at least as they walked around the house, peeking through every gap they found until finally they stumbled upon the right room.

Kali reached to her chest, feeling the tearing that the sight before her caused in her heart. Dean was leaning against the wall on his shoulder, the skin of his eyebrow bursting as a fist landed hard. Blood oozed from the new wound, rolling down his cheek to blend with the thick crimson on his chin. He was bruised, looked so broken and pale beneath the black, blue and red as he struggled for breath. She could see how he held his wrists, the position unnatural, each movement causing another flash of agony to fill his face.

She couldn't take her eyes off of him, even though she could hear the screams and tears of children inside, hear them weeping as they cried out for their mother. She hardly even noticed the mother that cowered beside Dean, still trying to call out for her boys even though there wasn't enough breath in her body to do so.

Sam tapped her shoulder, the touch becoming more urgent until she finally looked to him. He mouthed, 'hostages,' not daring to speak for fear that his words might be heard by the monsters inside.

'There are only two demons,' she said in silence.

'If we can kill them quick, maybe–'

She clapped a hand over his mouth to cut off his silent words. 'Let's not get our hopes up.'

He nodded, and she removed her hand, both of them looking back to the window to peek through the sliver of space between the curtains. The demons were wailing on Dean, both grinning as they lifted him from the ground, placing what appeared to be a gentle hand on his ribs, but by the cry that came from Dean, it obviously didn't matter how gentle they were with him. Death sat on the couch, the smallest smile on his lips filled with a darkness that chilled Kali to her soul.

The more she looked at him, the more she wondered how someone who looked so frail could hold so much power. Even his fingers looked like they would break on contact with anything, but the ring on his right hand, that was what interested her most. The white stone drew her gaze, and she knew in that moment that she would pry that ring from his finger even if it meant crawling back from hell do to it.

She glanced around, dragging a confused Sam to the side, away from the window towards the back of the house. He was throwing silent questions at her until she pointed at the balcony above and then drew his gaze down. There was lattice work on both sides of the balcony, encouraging and training the growth of a creeper, and by the perfect white paint and the small vines, the lattice was new. Kali reached up, feeling Sam tug at her jacket. She didn't look back, continuing to climb the lattice, listening for any cracks of wood but hearing only the faintest squeaks as she made her way to the balcony. She reached the metal of the balcony rail and gripped tight, hoisting herself up. She perched herself on it, looking down to Sam, encouraging him to follow even though there was trepidation in his eyes. After all, he was far heavier than her tiny build, and there was no way to know it the lattice would hold him. Still he gritted his teeth, tucking his scythes into the sheathes on his back before he reached up.

He climbed carefully, flinching with every creak that the wood emitted. She reached for him when he was close enough, gripping his wrist as he gripped hers to pull him up. He breathed a sigh of relief before he mouthed, 'how are you so strong?'

She smirked, mouthing, 'Dean asked me the same thing.'

She reached over her shoulder, grabbing her braid. She pulled her hair back from the blade, using it to get past the simple locking mechanism, the smallest part of her thinking that their security needed a serious upgrade as she pushed the door open.

_At least they keep their door hinges nicely oiled. _

They crept into the house, their footsteps light as they moved slowly through the rooms until they found the staircase. They crouched behind the heavy wooden balustrade, listening, knowing that the horseman was holding Dean, the mother and the children in the family room at the front of the house. Kali wanted to flinch with every smack of flesh she heard, knowing that each hit was against Dean. After all, his sounds of pain were all that she could hear now, the children apparently silenced, and she hoped, _prayed_, that it wasn't in the permanent way.

She grabbed Sam, dragging him into another room as she pulled a deadly little package from her jacket pocket.

* * *

><p>Dean saw a flash of white, his head shooting to the side. He felt one of his teeth loosen dangerously as he spat blood, his lips numb from the mistreatment of so many punches, his whole body aching with the beating that the demons were dealing while Death sat comfy on a leather couch.<p>

When the horseman finally spoke, his voice was strangely cheery. 'You're tougher than I thought you would be, Winchester.' That creepy smile lit his thin, pale lips as he reached up with a surprisingly steady hand to needlessly smooth his oiled black hair. 'I wonder if you'll be so quiet when I let my friends beat your brother.'

'You stay away from Sammy.'

'Or what?' a demon asked, only to be silenced by a raised hand from Death.

'Thank you, but I will do the talking,' the horseman said, words clipped, his smile disappearing. He turned back to Dean, standing to walk closer, the demons stepping aside as Death looked down on Dean's battered body. 'And what if I were to let my boys lay their hands on him? What would you do, Dean? Kick and gasp and beg me to stop them? You're all going to die, after all. Why not let these demons, these loyal fiends who broke free from hell just to help me make it to the surface, have a little fun before I take their play things away? I believe you're brother could be just the thing they need to release their anger, and then there's your little girlfriend.'

'If any of you even lay one fucking hand on her,' Dean growled as best as he could with the little air in his lungs, 'I'll drag you back down and torture you myself, and believe me, with the things I learnt over the decades I spent below…I'll enjoy every scream.'

'Oh, fighting words,' he said, placing a thin fingertip on his cheek, trailing it over his skin. He expected pain but felt nothing as Death turned his face to the side, forcing him to watch as Death placed a hand on Cassandra's chest, forcing him to see the pain in her eyes as she felt her heart explode in her chest. He screamed as he met her gaze, seeing the silenced pain in her eyes until the light within them went dark, her body slumping against him. He wept, unable to stop the tears that fell, the rivulets slicing through the thick blood on his face. His chest ached for the two boys that had just lost their mother, especially because he knew this fate awaited them both. So young, their lives destroyed, and soon to be ended.

At least the husband would escape this fate simply by being at the supermarket, but would it be worth the pain? Would he be able to survive the loss of his family? Dean knew that if he were to lose Sam, Bobby and Kali…

Kali…

_God, I know you probably stopped caring about me a long time ago, but please… Keep my family safe. _

'They will never come for me,' Dean said, never looking away from those darkened eyes of Cassandra's, 'they will just wait until you are distracted, and kill you then.' He looked to Death with a gaze filled with fire, with pain and all the love he would never be able to express as he said, 'it may take a month, or maybe even a decade, but they will kill you and you will go back to exactly where you came from.'

Death smiled. 'Oh please. Neither myself nor God can remember who is older, and you think you can scare me with your little stint in he–'

Dean didn't know what surprised him most; the sudden ringing in his ears or the way Death and his demons shot backwards, their bodies pounded by rubble. His eyes stung as dust filled them, but he didn't care, not when air filled his lungs. He dragged in breath after breath, not even noticing the plaster that bounced of his pounding head. He just got some air in his lungs and leant his back against the wall, ignoring the searing pain in his wrists as he pushed to his feet. He was coughing as he stood, nearly toppling over with the crippling pain, but he pushed forward, charging for the horseman only to stop as a body landed before him. He stumbled back, his vision blurry with tears and dust, be he could not mistake the tiny little frame that stood before him.

'Kali–'

'Good to see you too babe,' she said, dragging him into his arms with one arm as she reached behind her back with the other, unsheathing her Nodachi to slice the head from the demon that was sneaking up behind Dean in a clean swipe, the black smoke of the demon rising with such force that the disembodied head flew into the air. She grabbed the end of her braid and quickly sliced the binding on his wrists before she forced him to the ground. She lunged for Death, Sam already taking care of the other demon. The tip of her blade kissed his flesh and she tasted the sweetest anger, the most desperate need to destroy him as she sliced his hand, only to have him step back. That sickening smile remained on his lips, even as Sam came to her side, joining her attacks. Neither of them got close, but Kali's determination never faltered, even as Sam was thrown back, hitting the wall with such force that he was unconscious even before he slid to the dust coated ground. After all, she was still standing, and she had a chance to–

* * *

><p>She knew that someone was screaming. For a moment she thought it was her, but her lungs felt too heavy for her to even speak, let alone cry out. And if it was her, when did her voice become so deep, so harsh…?<p>

She was jostled, her feet kicked out from under her, but she didn't fall to the ground. She was placed there, gently, and still the screaming filled her ears even as she came to realise that her lips weren't moving. She couldn't even draw a breath, not without feeling a gut wrenching pain, her body convulsing with it, though she didn't know why, not until she lifted her head to look to her chest. There was blood everywhere, her shirt shining with it, the pool spreading with every second as the hands pushed further into her chest, crushing her lungs. Even as she watched him squeezing the life from her, she still tried to reach for her sword with a shaking, weak hand that could barely grip the hilt.

She tried to lift her Nodachi, tried to wield it as she usually did, but the metal clattered to the ground. She couldn't do it, couldn't even take the hand off the bastard who was taking her life, but if there was one last thing she could do…

'You've been a bad girl, Kali Saxton. All that smoking is bad for you. I can feel the tar in your lungs, feel the damage you've done,' he whispered, dropping lower to ghost his lips over her cheek. 'The things I can use to kill you, the many, many things. Cancer sounds fun. I can make you live through every agonising moment of someone who has suffered for years, all in the short time it will take for your blood to soak into this carpet.'

'Guess I'll see you in hell,' she choked, tasting blood.

She looked to the side, ignoring Death's irritating, far too sickeningly cheery voice as she memorised Dean's face even though it was blood and tear stained before she met his gaze. Though she couldn't speak, she said, 'I love you,' and white light engulfed her.

Kali didn't care that her time was over, though she wished that she had taken Death with her. She had finally told Dean what he meant to her.

Everything.

And now – miraculously – she was going to heaven; light surrounded the angel before her, his wings spreading like shadows in the blazing white. She wanted to smile, but the quirk of her lips faltered as a voice drifted through her head.

'Now,' it said, 'your chance is now. Take it, Kali Saxton.'

'But, I can't,' she said, closing her eyes, the light too bright as she realised that even now she could not speak, that the damage of her lungs had carried through to heaven, as strange as it was, 'I'm–'

'You have life enough for this.'

She opened her eyes and the light was gone. Death still stood over her, his hands deep within her chest, but his gaze was no longer settled on her. No, it was directed at the man that stood beside him, though his wings were gone. He stood only in a trench coat, his tie slightly askew and his shirt collar a little off, but when he spoke it was the same voice.

'Now Kali. You are strong.'

She felt it too, felt his words as they filled her. This time when she gripped the hilt, her fingers curled around it, tight and sure as she lifted the blade. Death looked to her, but too late as she raised the blade, a quiet cry escaping his lips as she hacked through his wrists. He stumbled back, standing as he stared at the stumps, though they were not stumps for long, his hands growing back. He lunged for her, but the angel – the _angel_ – pulled him away from Kali.

'Without your ring you cannot kill her. You cannot kill anyone like you used to,' he said. 'You must stop this. You have taken too many lives before their times, when you should be keeping the balance.'

'Get off your high horse you insignificant, little wing boy. You have no power over me.'

'I have the truth of nature. Do your job horseman, nothing more, or I will lock you back in the cage you belong in,' the angel said, his voice rising for the first time, 'now go! I am keeping your ring.'

Kali tried to keep her eyes open, to watch the bastard horseman skulk away, but they were too heavy. She couldn't even feel the pain any more, and that certainly didn't seem like a bad thing.

* * *

><p>'Castiel,' Dean said, 'thank god you're here.'<p>

'He did not send me,' the angel said, stepping towards Dean. He helped him to his feet, seeming not to notice as Dean struggled, trying to pull away, though Castiel's grip was too strong for the weakened Winchester. 'You are injured.'

'I don't care,' Dean screamed, wrenching himself from Castiel's arms to drop by Kali's side. He uselessly waved his hand over her, seeing so much blood, too much blood that soaked through everything, somehow even making it through the leather of her jacket. He cried, shameless as the sobs ripped from his chest as he finally cupped her face in his hands, though one of his wrists screamed at the pain. He leant his bloodied forehead against hers, feeling how cold she was. When he sat back on his heels, her skin had lost that porcelain perfection, almost blue in its near bloodless state. Even her eyes, those pale blue pools, looked white, so lifeless.

The cry that wrenched from his aching chest was the anguish of a broken man, so beyond repair. He dropped his head to her bloodied chest, not caring about the gore, especially when he heard the faintest bah-boom. He shot up, staring at Castiel, screaming, '_fix her!_' He screamed it over and over, even as Sam came into consciousness and tried to pull him away from her body.

'Dean, I canno–'

'You pulled me from hell for fuck sake, so _fix her while she's still holding on!_' he roared, seeing the strain on Castiel's face and not caring how bad the angel felt, not when the one good thing to come into his life since Sam was lying cold on the floor with the hands of that crusty, old, bastard of a horseman in her chest.

'Dean, she can't be–'

'But she is,' Dean cried at his brother. 'She is, but she won't be if you don't do something you damn angel!'

Sam held Dean back, even as Castiel crouched beside her body, holding his hands above her chest. His normally stoic features changed rapidly, his eyebrows nearly shooting off his head as he felt the life force that remained in her. He wasted no more time, pooling his power into her, filling her with it. Before their very eyes, the severed hands of the horseman were forced from her body, falling to the floor beside her as the macabre pond of blood she lay in was pulled back into her body from the carpet. Her torn lungs – visible through the holes where Death's hands had broken through – knitted back together, just as her ribs did shortly after, her skin too. Soon the only traces left were the two holes in her t-shirt, torn and frayed around the edges.

At that first shaky breath, Dean dropped to his knees; Sam had let go of him in shock, leaving his brother and his battered body to crawl across the floor. When her eyes fluttered open, he cried the fattest tears of joy to ever fall from his eyes. Even the agonising pain in his body couldn't interrupt his happiness, couldn't make his smile falter as he clutched her to his chest, and though he knew he was bloody he claimed her lips and kissed until they were both breathless.

'Don't you ever scare me like that again,' he said, not even trying to stop the smile that lit his lips. 'When he punched through your chest, I felt my heart shatter.'

'Good thing there was an angel to pick up the pieces,' she whispered, cupping his cheeks in her hands, wiping away some of the blood and tears on his skin.

He couldn't wait any longer. 'I love you, Kali,' he said, not caring about the witnesses, 'I'm giving up being a hunter. We're getting away from this life.'

She shook her head. 'Don't be silly. You know as well as I do that we wouldn't last five minutes in the normal world, not with all we've seen and done. As much as we don't like it, this is where we belong, but I don't care any more,' she said. 'More than ever, we are hunters, and I'm okay with that, especially now that I've got you.'

He didn't know what to say, but the kiss she gave him stole any argument he might have made, because deep down, he knew she was right. Being a hunter sucked sometimes. He had lost so many people that he loved, had seen so many horrific things and even done some, but today, he had something to look forward to, even though they still had so many hard times ahead of them. Today he had the two things he needed in life; his brother, and the woman he knew would hold his heart for eternity.

She stood, helping him stand before she tucked herself into his arms. He flinched at the contact on his ribs, but still held her tighter when she tried to pull away. While Castiel promised to tend to the young boys and the father who would arrive home only to become a broken man, Kali and Dean led the way out of the house, Sam close on their heels.

'Dean,' Sam whispered, making Kali and his brother pause before they could get into the Cobra. He looked to the two of them, saw the way Kali supported Dean, saw the edge of happiness that somehow managed to find its way into the gaze and said, 'Dean, marry that girl.'

Kali laughed, but Dean just smiled at his brother and glanced to her, pulling her tighter against his side as he said, 'maybe one day I will.'

THE END

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><p><strong>Greetings readers.<strong>

I hope you enjoyed reading **Crimson Angel** as much as I enjoyed writing it. I had a blast writing the wicked new character of Kali Saxton, and even more fun writing Dean and bringing a little bit of sunshine into his otherwise dark life.

And hey, maybe one day there'll be another Kali/Dean adventure. I hope you'll keep an eye on my profile for future stories.

Thanks for reading!

~ Ryuk In Person ~


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